FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Un-fucking-believable!" howled the gray fox in frustration; his small, left fist pounding on the rim of his SUV's steering wheel while the right held tight to maintain control. The outburst served to maintain wakefulness as much as to vent his anger. Wobbling at the edge of physical and mental endurance, he was profoundly tired from a morning of strenuous tracking followed by a long afternoon and evening of driving.

Innately disposed by his gentle nature to detest physical and verbal violence, profanity laced tantrums were uncharacteristic of the reticent vulpine. Fear, fatigue, and hopelessness had all combined to release his snarling inner predator. A psychologist might advise that rage externally expressed is often internally directed. Ross' outburst was no exception. He was the driver. He owned his predicament.

Accepting that truism allowed his anger to subside. Self-recrimination and a desperate need for caffeine replaced it. Coffee was his last defense against the powerful urge to sleep. In the adjacent console armrest, a white paper cup with its iconic green mermaid logo, promised a short interlude of additional wakefulness. He raised it to his lips only to find it empty.

"Son...of...a...bitch," he whined convinced that he was on the verge of mental collapse.

Not ten minutes earlier, he had done the same damn thing netting an identical result. That he had forgotten proved that his exhausted brain was running on fumes. Destined for a wreck if he stayed much longer behind the wheel, he knew a break was essential, but he was nowhere near a town or rest area or anywhere he felt safe enough to stop for the night. Whimpering in despair, he crumpled the smirking, mermaid emblazoned container in his paw and tossed it over his shoulder into the rear compartment where it rattled and bounced among his gear like a ball in a Pachinko machine.

The empty blackness of the lonely northeastern California highway continued to engulf everything beyond the limited scope of his headlights. One would think that in a state populated with nearly forty million furs there would be some sign of civilization, but Ross knew how inhospitable and empty most of the American West really was. Lonely stretches of road, where scores of miles passed at night without encountering another vehicle, were not uncommon, and that was exactly what Ross had experienced since the moment he had obeyed the siren song of his GPS half an hour earlier. Acting on its directions, he had turned onto an alternate road, off his normal route, and had been the only car traveling it since.

He glanced again through weary eyes at the illuminated map on his phone. It stubbornly claimed he was traveling in the right direction, bound for his home in Reno. Ross was beginning to wonder which was malfunctioning more, the device or him. Nothing about his surroundings felt right or familiar. Fatigue clearly had overridden good judgment, and Ross admonished himself for making the egregious and lazy mistake of relying on the electronic navigator. Still, the positions of the stars in the clear sky above indicated he was traveling east-southeast at least. Unwilling to retrace his route and lose another hour, he pressed on. It was the second in a series of fateful decisions.

Normally, he prided himself on his excellent geographical sense of orientation and space, possessing it since he was a pup in the scouts. In adulthood, it helped him earn extra cash doing what he truly loved, tracking, tagging, and radio collaring wildlife for species surveys. It was the kind of work that suited the shy loner, who felt more comfortable among the ferals than his own kind. Ross routinely roamed the back-country wilderness with nothing but a compass, a map, and his wits, never getting lost. Yet despite having crossed this region dozens of times, he was as disoriented and astray as the greenest tourist.

Without warning, the pavement abruptly gave way to gravel, narrowed to one lane, and became increasingly rough, forcing him to reduce speed. Ross surrendered to the inevitability of retreating. This road was leading him nowhere. Each mile he traveled was one more he had to repeat before returning to the familiar highway and a motel.

Trees encroached, reaching down and inwards from the sides like the claws of gnarled giants forcing him to drive even slower lest he strike their probing branches. Turning his SUV around became impossible. The night sky was blocked by the dense forest canopy. Unable to find his bearing from the stars, he reluctantly turned to his GPS, but the deceitful gadget had lost all satellite connections. Even the car's compass began gyrating randomly.

"That cinches it. I'm going back," he declared with certainty he didn't feel. The malevolent forest appeared bent on trapping him in its vegetative embrace.

Ross searched ahead for a wide stretch in the deteriorating road; a dubious hope until a small slice of fortune promised escape. Appearing on the right, a side path, barely more than a trail, lead about fifty yards to an open clearing illuminated by glittering silver moonlight. Desperate and exhausted, Ross failed to register the impossibility of how the new moon that had accompanied him all night suddenly waxed full in the span of a few minutes. Instead, Ross eagerly turned down the steep side trail anticipating a quick about face that would speed him back to familiar territory.

Branches scraped his doors mercilessly as his vehicle lurched over humps and through potholes, but he was rewarded when he emerged into the flat, crushed gravel-covered clearing that was indeed large enough for him to make a one-eighty. As he arced the vehicle left, its headlights swept over tall grass, where before he had been certain a smooth, engineered pad had lain.

"God! I'm, more tired than I thought," he mumbled aloud believing himself to be hallucinating, then hit the brakes and rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

"What the f...?"

The reality that he had just driven his truck out of the forest was undeniable, but no trace of his passage remained. While it was true the flora had been overgrown and consuming the road, the location from which his car had emerged should be obvious, yet not a single broken branch or crushed shrub betrayed his passing.

With a distraught sigh, Ross put the truck in park, retrieved a flashlight from the glove box, threw open the car door, and stepped out to investigate. He was perplexed by the carpet of soft grass and pine needles beneath his hindpaws.

"What happened to the gravel?"

Shocked by the cold, Ross shivered and forgot his own question. It was late summer, but even at night and at this elevation, mild evening temperatures were the norm. The air he inhaled was crisp, nearly freezing. Uncomfortably invigorated, he welcomed the forced alertness and left his jacket in the car.

No more than a dozen strides took him to where he thought his vehicle had exited the forest. His feeble light revealed little. An unexpected flash of lightning provided dazzling, electric blue illumination, unveiling an unbroken wall of broad-leaf vegetation. The species he was able to identify in that blinding instant were out of place in a region dominated by pine trees and dry scrub. Thunder followed within seconds, rumbling down on top of him like a giant's mocking laugh, emphasizing that his pathetic flashlight could illuminate nothing more than the hopelessness that the heavens had already revealed.

A second, dendritic discharge of raw energy night-blinded him as he turned towards his car. Accompanied by a nearly instantaneous concussion of sound, the small vulpine was staggered by the double punch. With the jagged white afterimage still glowing across his vision, he stumbled haltingly back towards shelter. The rushing sound of torrential rain approaching from the west gave impetus to his stride. Seconds after slamming the door shut, a downpour enveloped his vehicle as if he had driven beneath a waterfall. Sheets of water covered the windows. Only a complete soaking through his clothes and furry pelt would result from venturing out again, so Ross let exhaustion have its victory.

With what little energy he retained, he climbed into the back, put the rear passenger bench seat down to enlarge the compartment, moved his tracking and hiking gear, his spare clothes, and his precious rifle with its supply of tranquilizer darts to a pile on the passenger side, and rolled out his sleeping pad and bag behind the driver's seat. Worried that the unusual chill would worsen, he undressed, put on his thermal leggings and undershirt, and covered them with a woolen shirt and his nylon hiking pants. A small, LED penlight hung from the coat hook above the rear door window served as a comforting nightlight. Once inside the insulated cocoon of his bag, he rolled up his jacket for a pillow, rested his head upon it, and fell instantly asleep.

The dreams that followed were not as restful as he desired, haunting him with a disturbing sense of déjà vu. In them, he was driving and lost once more.

"Stupid fool," he labeled himself for risking so much to save the cost of one night's lodging. Four hundred miles and eight hours of driving separated Bend, Oregon from Reno, Nevada, and he was little better than half way.

Visions of tracking, darting, and radio collaring wolves for the Oregon Department of Wildlife spliced themselves incongruously with Ross' futile attempt to drive forward. Out of sequence, time repeated bereft of logic. Decisions made to leave late, though rejected, recurred as his leaden hindpaws took hours to reach his car. Infecting the entire looking glass narrative was a desperate need to get home to save his job at the casino. Without the steady paycheck, he was homeless.

That desire to be in his own bed possessed him in his unconscious state, and as in many similar nightmares, he could not reach his destination no matter how valiantly he struggled. A sucking force dragged his vehicle deeper into a creepy wood, whose trees bore boles with hideous leering faces and branches like twisted arms reaching clumsily to slow his advance and pry open his doors and windows with their twiggy fingers. The scraping and tapping became the omnipresent beat of his funeral dirge. Incessant tapping. Tapping. Tapping.

Suddenly awake, sweating, and frightened, Ross gulped deep breaths trying desperately to dispel the horror of his nightmare, but the haunting rapping continued to reverberate in his ears. Morphing into an insistent pounding, the sound then abruptly stopped leaving him to believe it was all just confusion confined within his sleep-deprived brain.

Unsure if he slept or woke, Ross turned his head to the left and noted that the rain had stopped sometime while he was asleep. Snow had replaced it, coating the windows. The blanket of white over the land lent a pale, reflected glow to the otherwise black night. He shivered despite his multiple layers of clothes and the snug warmth of his sleeping bag.

"Snow in September," thought Ross. "Am I insane, or do I still sleep?"

The freakish weather exacerbated the dreadful disquiet sown by the inexplicable manner in which he had become lost and isolated, but the panic dissipated as he convinced himself he was awake and safe. Sleep could not have held him long in its embrace because it was still dark, and his exhaustion was undiminished, but somehow his nightlight batteries had died during his brief slumber. Convinced that the tapping and pounding were but remnants of his dream, he laid his head back down hoping the remainder of his night's sleep was more restful.

The rapping began again as soon as he closed his eyes, this time emanating from the window directly above his head. A cold lump of dread formed inside Ross' chest. The fur on the back of his neck rose, and he whined unconsciously. His tall, triangular ears swiveled to track the sound, but he was afraid to let his eyes follow their lead lest the terror of what he might behold completely unhinge his mind.

His paralysis, though arrant, was temporary. Ignorance of the danger terrified him more than discovery. Ross fumbled for his spare flashlight. He soon found the comforting cylinder and rolled, while still in his sleeping bag, away from the source of his fright, bumping against the pile of gear on other side of the car. Gaining less than a foot of additional separation from the window, the buffer nevertheless yielded some comfort.

Training the tight beam on the passenger window illuminated a large, fur covered face and two huge, brown paws with their black palm pads pressed against the window. It's eyes reflected the light briefly, as if glowing, before shutting reflexively against the glare. Ross' fatigued brain tried to make sense of the image. At first he thought it was a feral bear, unable to imagine what else of that size would be wandering around the wilderness at night in a snow storm, but the unmistakably anthropomorphic features tweaked at his subconscious until he was forced to conclude this was Ursus sapiens, a fellow fur.

Slowly, the ursine's eyes peeked open becoming used to the harsh light, and Ross recognized the intelligence behind them. This was not a wild animal. It was a person, and that brought forth both hope that he was not alone and a new sense of danger that strangers always aroused in him.

"Hello," said the bear. The glass muted his voice, but it was deep, loud, and surprisingly friendly. "My name is Osric. Are you a friend of the Earth Mother? Is it warm in there? I could sure use some shelter if it is. May I join you?"

Ross found the rapid-fire series of questions puzzling, generating endless questions of his own about the stranger. Upon realizing the bear was sentient, Ross reasoned that he must live nearby, but if he did, why would he need shelter? Why didn't he just go home? Nothing about him made sense, especially the weird 'Earth Mother' comment.

Caution for his personal safety and pity for the stranger warred within Ross' vulpine brain stymieing his response. The bear was probably just a back-to-nature freak, part of some kind of hippy commune hiding out here in the woods and was too stoned to find his way home. That explanation sounded harmless, but on the other paw, the bear could be a dangerous escaped criminal or psychotic serial killer hunting for his next victim.

Timid, but kind at heart, Ross' nature compelled him to empathize with the miserable looking fur. Ross was resigned to offering shelter, but as a precaution, he palmed a tranquilizer dart from the pouch on his rifle case before leaning between the front seats to turn the key in the ignition, activating the window controls. Ross needed more information to comfort his fears before he would dare unlock the door, so he lowered the rear passenger window a few inches.

"Uh, hi. My name's Ross. Do you live around here?"

The bear's snout poked in through the narrow gap between glass and steel, testing the air inside. His huge, black tongue licked the window, and his pointed front teeth chewed briefly on the glass before he answered.

"No. I'm traveling between villages peddling my services and got caught in this unusual storm just like you, only I don't have a nice dry...whatever this is...to hide inside."

Not recognizing a car, or at least claiming not to, was bizarre, but the bear's voice remained calm and rational. If he was a deranged lunatic, he was hiding his madness well. Perhaps, thought Ross, Osric was a member of a weird West Coast Amish-style group of technological primitives that shunned modern conveniences. If so, it was possible, though unlikely, he had never seen a car.

As Ross took in what he could observe of the bear, that he was ill dressed for the weather became manifest. His clothing was truly primitive consisting of a buckskin coat covering his upper body and a hat stitched together from similar material with its sodden brim drooping against the sides of his head.

The white puffs of vapor that accompanied each of Osric's breaths and the icicles that hung from the tips of the fur on his brow reminded Ross how truly frightful and dangerous the weather was. Snow was falling again, but this time it was a wet, miserable sleet. Compassion prevented Ross from letting the stranger freeze to death. Besides, he did have the tranquilizer dart. The bear could be put to sleep in seconds if necessary.

"Alright. You may come inside, but not this door. I'll let you in the front on the other side."

Obeying Ross' instructions, Osric shuffled around the truck while Ross unlocked the passenger's door. Audible, the mechanical lock release could be heard inside and out, but the bear made no move to open the door.

"Go ahead. It's unlocked," Ross urged.

"What's unlocked?" asked the bear as he wiped snow off the window. A genuinely puzzled look covered his face.

"The door. There's a handle on it. Just grip it, squeeze, and pull."

Osric looked at the side of the SUV dubiously. Ross lost patience.

"Oh, heck! I'll do it."

The fox pulled the inner handle and popped the door open a couple of inches. The dome light came on as he did.

"There. You can do the rest."

Tentatively gripping the frame of the door, the bear slowly pulled it open until he could fit his bulk inside. Pausing halfway, he marveled at the interior.

"Incredible! I've never seen anything like this. Did you make it?"

Like a child experiencing a wonder for the first time, the bear's huge paw reached for the dashboard climate and radio controls that had also begun their soft glow when the door opened.

"Don't touch that!" shouted Ross a little too harshly in his impatience with the bear's ignorance. "Sorry. It's just that I don't want to wear down the battery any more than necessary. Just get in the seat and shut the door. You're letting all the cold and wet inside."

Osric eagerly complied, heaving himself awkwardly into the front seat facing forward. It was then that Ross realized how huge the bear really was, at least six and a half feet tall and over two hundred fifty pounds. Built like a linebacker for the NFL, Ross wondered if the tranquilizer dart, calibrated for a feral wolf's body mass, would be enough to stop the enormous bruin if the necessity arose.

"Thank you, kind Wizard Ross," said Osric with a sincere dose of politeness and respect as he removed his hat and set it on the floor between his hindpaws. "It is indeed dry in here if still a bit cold."

Desiring to maintain a courteous mood, Ross reached past Osric's shoulder for the ignition. With a twist of the key, the V-8 engine roared to life making the bear jump with a start. Genuinely afraid, he gazed at Ross with further awe.

"Have you trapped a dragon in this contraption?" he asked tremulously.

"Ha. Ha," laughed Ross, but it was a nervous laugh. His guest was clearly not at ease, and the fox did not want to risk upsetting the giant. "No. It's just a thing called an internal combustion engine. It is noisy, but it will warm up the inside in a few minutes."

"Dragons are dangerous. They fight for the Earth Father. They make heat," he added accusingly.

"There's no dragon."

No abatement of the bear's dubious concern followed Ross' assurance.

"We can go outside, look under the hood, and I'll show you if you like. There's an engine but no dragon."

"What will that prove? I would recognize neither an engine nor an ensorcelled dragon. Only wizard's ken encompass such arcana."

"For Christ's sake, I'm not a wizard or sorcerer. I'm just a fox who lives in the twenty-first century and owns a car." Ross was tired and frustrated. Under his breath, he muttered, "Unlike you, apparently."

"Car," repeated the bear, testing the new word, and then suddenly turned his body to face back towards Ross, who had slumped onto his rear again in the back compartment.

"Tell me then, Wizard Ross, on whose side do you ally?"

An aura of fervent intensity begging for reassurance formed like a halo around each of the bear's words, leaving Ross unsure how to respond.

"Side? Do you mean political party or something, because I don't get into politics?"

From the bear's exasperated expression, Ross felt he was being judged an idiot.

"You wizards say the strangest things. I mean are you an agent of the Earth Mother or the Earth Father? That's a pretty simple question."

Now Ross was certain this bear was part of some isolationist, nature based sect. Who the Earth Mother and Father were, and to what folklore they belonged, Ross had no clue, but clearly, Osric expected him to know and would not be satisfied without an answer.

"Well I don't know those deities specifically, but I am for goodness, generosity, sharing, being kind to your brother, and that sort of stuff. Is that what you mean?"

It was the safest thing he could think to say, and the relaxation of Osric's tense posture indicated the bear was mollified.

"Earth Mother it must be, then. That's a relief. I was certain from your kind face that you were on our side. An agent of the Earth Father might have let me in, but only to capture and enslave me, not to provide warmth and shelter."

"How would I enslave you? I'm just a little fox, and you...well, you're huge."

"With evil magic, of course."

Cognizant of the dart in his paw again, Ross considered how a sleeping drug might seem like a magic potion to Osric. He stuffed the projectile in the pocket on the back of Osric's seat.

"I am wondering, how could you not know of the Earth Mother?" asked the bear oblivious to Ross' secretive action. "Everyone does."

"Well...maybe it's because I'm not from around here. I live in Reno and haven't done any field work in this part of California. I just pass through occasionally."

"Reno? California?"

Osric tested the names and wracked his memory for a trace of them. He came up with nothing.

"Never heard of those places. They must be far away."

It was Ross' turn to scoff and judge.

"Oh. Come on! Everyone's heard of Reno. It's in Nevada?"

Oz shook his head.

"No? Never heard of Nevada? Here's a clue: it's one of the United States of America, and so is California."

The bear shrugged his shoulders.

"Wow! You obviously have been kept isolated from the real world. Let me guess, you have never been more than a few miles from your home."

"You guess wrong, friend. May I call you friend?"

The request caught the fox by surprise. Ross had few friends. He was shy, and found it difficult to initiate such relationships. Despite the bear's weird ideas, Osric's manner was engaging. A powerful and unexplained sense of shared compatibility drew the little fox towards the bear like the gravitational attraction binding the earth and moon into permanent companions wandering the emptiness of existence together.

"Uh, sure. I mean, I would like to be your friend, too."

Osric smiled, genuinely happy with Ross' acceptance.

"That is excellent, but now that we are friends, remorse consumes me over being disagreeable and proving you wrong. You see, I have wandered hundreds of miles in every direction from here offering my services in exchange for food, shelter, news, and small items to trade. I have crossed the high steppes to the south, the burning deserts to the west, the fertile plains to the north and the mountains in the east."

None of that geography made any sense to Ross.

"You sure you got your directions right? It's mountains to the east and west. Go far enough west and you hit the Pacific Ocean. Go far enough east and you hit deserts before leaving the mountains for the Great Plains. I can show you a map if I can get some damn cell reception out here."

Apparently insulted at having his knowledge of the land disparaged, Osric huffed and crossed his mighty arms over his chest.

"I do know what direction I travel and I know what I have seen. Have you wandered as far as I, or do you rely on this 'map' for your knowledge?"

"Farther than you. I have flown across this continent..."

Interrupting with open-mouthed astonishment, Osric asked "You can fly?"

"Now really!" protested Ross. "That is just too much. You can't tell me that you have never seen an airplane. They fly over everywhere, even remote places like this. You must have seen one. I'd show you their lights in the sky if it wasn't snowing out there right now."

Osric's puzzlement continued unabated.

"What does an airplane look like?"

Beyond all credulity, Ross laughed aloud.

"Fine. I get it. This the most elaborate cosplay ever. Well, that's okay. I love role-play as much as anyone. A plane is kind of like a bird except its wings don't move. They're shiny, made of metal, and make a loud roaring noise or high pitched whine depending on whether it's a jet or propeller driven engine."

"No," drawled Osric thoughtfully while shaking his head. "I would have remembered something as remarkable as that."

"You're shitting me."

"Huh? No. I have not soiled your car."

"Ha. Ha. You're really good at this, but I can keep playing the straight man.'Shitting me' is just an expression. It means you're joking and trying to deceive me."

"Why would I do that to my friend? Friends share trust and the truth with each other. I believe we are both in earnest and believe what we are saying. Since we can't both be right, we must consider other possibilities."

"Such as?"

"Perhaps the battle that the Earth Mother and Father have been waging here for years has changed the land too much since you last passed this way."

"Okay. I know I'm going to regret asking, but what battle are you talking about?"

"Your ignorance of something that is so manifestly obvious to everyone of this world is a clue. I believe, friend Ross, that you are too smart and observant to lack this knowledge unless you are from another reality, perhaps from another world or plane of existence."

Ross opened his mouth to protest, but Osric held up his paw motioning him to hold his tongue a moment longer.

"I have an idea about that, but first I will explain the Earth Mother and Father to you. They are the creators of our world. The Father made the land, the seas, and the sky. The Mother made all the creatures that fly, swim, burrow, and walk. Usually, Mother and Father work together in harmony, but like all lovers, they sometimes quarrel. Their latest spat started many years ago, and they have plunged our world into turmoil ever since.

"We are the Father's and the Mother's children. Caught in the middle of their battle, we have been forced to take sides in this war in order to survive it. Those on the side of the Earth Mother dedicate themselves to creation, nurturing, healing, and stability. Those who fight for the Earth Father fight to promote change, struggle, and growth.

"Their feud has raged all over the world, but it is here where they are battling at present. Violent and extreme weather, contortion of the land, and red-hot eruptions of liquid rock from the underworld have put all who live here in peril. The protective shell that defines the limits of our reality has probably been cracked. It is easy to become lost under such conditions."

"I may be a little lost but not that lost," protested Ross.

"Are you sure? Can you find your direction in the stars?"

Ross had spent many nights out camping and staring at the heavens. The patterns there were as familiar to him as the whorls in his fur.

"Easily," he replied with confidence.

"Then show me north. The storm is gone. The heavens are on display."

Ross glanced through the windshield. Astonishingly, the bear was right. The twinkle of stars was just visible beyond the rind of frost.

It was still frigid when they stepped outside, but all the clouds had vanished during their brief conversation. Osric needed help with the door again and trembled in his wet clothes. This time Ross was oblivious to his new friend's discomfort. His eyes were wide open and fixed on the astronomical display. The Big Dipper, Polaris, bright Sirius, Orion, every familiar star and constellation was gone, replaced by a completely different set of stars arranged in patterns he had never seen from anywhere on earth.

Most astounding of all, and the coup de grace that made him a believer in Osric's theory of alternate realities, was the spectacular and looming presence of another spiral galaxy occupying a full twenty arc seconds of the sky. It was as if Ross was in one of the Magellanic Clouds that hovered over a hundred thousand light years from the Milky Way looking down upon his own home galaxy. Devastatingly beautiful, the spectacle held him transfixed in rapt fascination until Osric put his paw on his shoulder.

"So, friend, which way is north?"

"This can't be my world," was the frightened fox's despondent reply.

Osric reached around Ross' shoulder to hug him gently. It was a compassionate gesture meant to provide support against a severe shock. Ross leaned into the embrace accepting the proffered comfort.

"I figured the sky would look different from your world just as the profile of a tall mountain varies depending from which side you view it," said Osric in a sad voice full of sympathy. "The magical disruption brought on by the Earth Mother and Father's war must have summoned you here."

"Osric..."

"Call me Oz, please. All my friends do."

Ross felt as though he was about to cry, but he sniffed instead and wiped his nose pretending it was just the cold. The anxiety evident in his voice was less easy to disguise.

"Oz, how do I get home?"

"I don't know, but don't give up hope. Since we are friends, I'll help you find the Earth Mother. If anyone knows, it's Her. We'll beg for Her assistance. She is close."

"Is she?"

"Yes. The erratic weather and shifting land proves that Father and Her are contesting this ground, but we won't find anything in the dark and cold but our own deaths. We should wait the night in your car and search for Her in the morning."

Homesick, lost, bereft of a better idea, and still tired beyond all endurance, Ross nodded with meek acceptance. They clambered back into the comfort of the vehicle, but the little fox wasn't so mentally addled by reality displacement and fatigue that he would let a large, soggy bear climb about in his bedding like a wet dog.

"Remove your clothes, and dry your fur with this," Ross ordered and tossed a towel into the front passenger seat. Obedient, Oz began shedding his wet clothes in the cramped forward compartment exhibiting remarkable agility for the task considering his size.

Ross tried, but failed to avoid staring as the muscular ursid removed his garments. Peeling away each layer like the components of a diver's wet-suit, the soaked buckskin clung tenaciously to Oz's fur, leaving behind whorls, clumps, and spikes patterning his brown pelt in haphazard pseudo-tribal motifs.

Every layer of his garments were held in place by long strips of leather woven through eyelets and tied in knots. His jacket, shirt, and moccasins cooperated and joined his hat on the floor, but the bear's pants were tied in the back by a stubborn hitch that resisted his awkward efforts to reach it, confined as he was.

"Friend Ross, I am in difficulty here. You have finer claws and slenderer digits than I. Would you be so kind and untie this devilish knot for me?"

As he spoke, Oz knelt upon the seat with his backside elevated and his small, stubby tail twitching from side to side.

"Oh, um, sure. I can try," answered Ross.

Shaking slightly, Ross' paws reached forward to test the fastening. It was indeed cinched and stretched into a most abominable configuration. Oz's blind fumbling with it had only made it worse.

"This is not going to be easy, so give me a few minutes."

"Take your time, friend Ross. I am your guest and will suffer whatever you require."

Taking his time was exactly what Ross wanted, but for reasons that defied any necessity other than lust. Picking and tugging at the leather tie involved incidental contact with the bear's posterior that, with the unlocking of each intertwining loop of the cord, became intentional touching. Through the taught deerskin, he divined the underlying softness of fur and round, sinewy musculature. The closeness of the act brought with it an increase in awareness of the ursid's alluring male scent.

Wisdom holds that it is the journey and not the destination that fulfills our body, mind, and spirit. Ross did not contest this postulate; rather, he embraced it. To tug at Osric's drawstrings the rest of the night in anticipation of what lay beneath was a sojourn he would gladly endure for as long as he could dupe the bear into letting him continue. Loop by inevitable loop came apart, though, until the last half hitch slipped open. With guilty pleasure, Ross let his paws wander about the bear's backside as if still engaged in the effort of freeing the makeshift belt until Oz, turning his head to gauge Ross' progress caught the Fox's eyes and cocked a quizzical eyebrow.

"Almost done?"

"It just came loose," Ross lied placing his fingers between the cord and Osric's waist so he could loosen its constrictive grip.

"Many thanks," said Oz before pulling his pants abruptly down exposing his buttocks and the thong-like strip of cloth he had artfully tied about his loins.

Curious to observe what lay beneath but without excuse to be hovering about the front compartment, Ross pretended other business compelled his presence.

"I need to turn off the engine," he explained, "or we'll run out of gas during the night."

The bear had no idea what gas was or what would happen if they ran out of it, but he trusted his wizard friend's every intention. Nodding, he continued his acrobatic undressing act until he was entirely nude. Ross reached past him to kill the ignition and stole surreptitious, sidelong glances of Oz's package.

Ross' feelings towards Oz, previously restricted to cordial conviviality towards a kindred traveler, transformed into a bewildering gallimaufry infused with sexual desire. The lonely ache arising within Ross' heart painfully reminded him that his friends were few and lovers non-existent. At twenty-three years old, he was effectively a virgin having never ventured beyond an awkward experiment in school with another equally shy boy. The hasty and embarrassing disaster had not been repeated.

Fantasy had become the fox's substitute for genuine relationships. By serendipitous coincidence, Oz matched many key elements of the fox's dream mate. The bear was large, strong, and polite; an excellent foundation, but was he gentle with a slow and tantalizing paw when it came to the act of undressing? Tender caresses accompanied by teasing through the fabric of his underpants and tentative contact with his most sensitive areas meant more to Ross than the glories that followed. A prelude of a thousand years of foreplay was worthier than the climax. To be doomed like Sisyphus to toil up to the penultimate moment only to repeatedly begin the task anew was closer to Ross' heaven than the King of Corinth's hell.

Was the bear equally interested in a deeper relationship? The promise of paradise or the awkwardness of perdition were potential outcomes discoverable with a simple question, but the bashful fox was too embarrassed to give voice to his passions. Worried that Oz might think his preferences odd or perverted, scorn loomed larger as a threat to his fragile self-image than denial of opportunity. Having the handsome ursid share his bed for the night would have to suffice.

Besides, the fox told himself, he had no idea which way the bear leaned when it came to intimate matters. Though friendly thus far, no action, intonation, or expression on Oz's part indicated the slightest amorous intent. Willingness to help Ross find his way home and evincing gratitude for being provided shelter were not the same as sexual attraction. Berating himself for assuming too much, Ross retreated towards the back in a melancholy funk.

While the fox struggled with his internalized angst, Osric rubbed the towel over his body until his fur was dry and fluffed like that of a giant plush toy. His loincloth was still dripping wet, so he wrung it dry and re-wrapped it snugly about his waist. He then turned and extended his arms as wide as he could in the confined space.

"Well?"

"Well what?" wondered the perplexed fox.

"Do I pass inspection? I feel mostly dry. May I join you now? It's getting cold in here again."

"Yes. Of course," answered Ross. "Just hold on a second. I need to make room for two."

Ross unzipped the sleeping bag until it became a large comforter. Oz stared with doe-eyed wonder at his wizard friend's marvelous gear. Further rummaging produced a second insulated pad that the fox spread next to his. With the open sleeping bag on top, he had a passable double bed.

"Okay," said Ross when he was finished.

Sliding his shaggy bulk between the front seats, Osric clambered beside his new friend and rubbed his paws over the forest green blanket testing the feel of the material.

"So smooth. Is this the skin of some sea creature? A seal perhaps?"

Ross laughed.

"No. Not sealskin. It's synthetic."

"Sin...theh...dik?" Oz struggled to pronounce the curious new word.

"Meaning not found in nature. People make it...by magic I guess you would say. I don't know how it's made, but this model is rated to well below freezing. We'll stay warm enough especially with two of us under it."

"Well, this certainly looks snug and comfortable." Oz slipped underneath. "You wizards travel in style."

They lay on their backs, shoulders touching. Oz's legs were long enough that his hindpaws would have extended past the tailgate if it were open. To compensate, he bent his knees.

Spreading his jaws wide, Oz cracked a lengthy and toothy yawn.

"It has been a long day."

Compelled by the power of suggestion, Ross yawned in return.

"No kidding. Good night, Oz."

"Good night, friend Ross."

Exhaustion resolved Ross' apprehension that the closeness of a handsome male would render sleep impossible. Despite the turmoil in his mind, he slipped rapidly into the dream realm once again unaware, like all dreamers, that he had done so.

His companion, however, seemed agitated and fidgeted restlessly for many minutes before turning on his side and whispering in his bed-mate's ear.

"Ross?"

Extremely sleep deprived, comprehension of the ursid's inquiry and the nearness of his warm breath came slowly to the fox. Several repetitions of his name were needed to rouse him back to awareness. Too tired to open his eyes and incapable of speech, he uttered an incomprehensible, "Hmmm?" in return.

"I'm having trouble sleeping...and...well, I'm a little embarrassed to say why."

Ross wondered at the bear's dilemma, sorting through a host of possibilities before he remembered his own amorous question that he had been too timid to ask. Longing to find the answer in Oz's eyes, he struggled to sit up, but his body was incapacitated. Even his eyes resisted all commands to open. The best he could accomplish with his mightiest effort was to respond idiotically with the same mumbled "Hmmm?"

A long silence followed. Ross' frantic mind, trapped within an inert mannequin, panicked believing that a crucial and precious moment was slipping away.

"Why?" he cursed himself internally. "Why can't I speak?"

Torturing himself for his inaction, Ross joyfully discovered his fears were for naught.

"I...I...have feelings towards you, friend Ross...feelings that you may not requite. I don't wish to damage our friendship by exposing them, especially so soon, but if I don't...if I don't, I know I will regret it. Would you have me speak of this or leave you alone and never mention it again?"

"Oh God!" thought Ross. "He does want me."

Paralysis gripped him still, but Ross struggled against the invisible bonds holding him mute, straining from every exhausted sinew until finally he was able to croak, "Yes! I will requite thee."

It was an oddly antiquated manner to phrase his acceptance of Oz's overture, but Ross retained little control over himself as if he we're detached from his own body.

Upon receiving the fox's answer, the bear smiled and wrapped his burly arms about his limp friend. A soft murr of pleasure was squeezed from the fox's lungs by the vigorous embrace.

"I am so relieved, friend Ross. I could never have slept through the night without knowing this, and now I am so happy and giddy, that I doubt that I can sleep anyway. There seems to be no cure for my restlessness...except maybe one thing could help. Do you know what I'm thinking, friend?"

Having spent his reserves on the mighty undertaking of speech, Ross was reduced to mumbling again.

"Hmmm hmmm."

Though his eyes remained closed, Ross managed to smile. It was sufficient acknowledgment for the bear.

"You're tired. I see that, but you don't have to move. Just relax and let me pleasure you."

Oz began by gently nuzzling Ross' cheek beneath his ear. Moist, the tip of his nose was a source of roaming cold alternately warmed by his steady breath. Ice and fire worked in tandem to set his senses tingling, heightening every nerve's responsiveness until the bear's slightest movement initiated subtle convulsions of pleasure throughout the fox's body.

So gradual was the transition to licking at the sides of the fox's pointed snout that Ross found it impossible to remember when it had begun. The tenderness of the bear's languid, sensual progress dragged an involuntary moan from Ross' otherwise inert lips. Each physical contact became the sole experience in Ross' small, but expanding, universe of sensations. Though the fox longed for the onset of each new thrilling input to his over stimulated libido, the excruciatingly gradual pace of Oz's progress intensified the experience.

"Let's play a game, shall we?" suggested Oz.

"Hmmmmm?"

"I will try a little bit of everything and see how you react. If something pleases you, just murr contentedly. If not, stay silent, and I'll move on."

"Murr," responded Ross finding the throaty purr somehow easier to produce than his previous mumbling.

Ross continued to nuzzlick gently along Ross' snout while his paws caressed his chest. Aimless, rubbing evolved into a pattern of gentle circles around his nipples. Responding, they hardened like those of a marble statue, showing their protuberance through his double layer of shirts. The love and affection accompanying the simple act embossed itself pleasantly upon Ross' psyche leaving him so contented that he forgot to murr his approval until the bear began to move away.

"Murr," he whined insistently, then found the power to speak a single word. "Sl...slow...slow."

"Ah. You like this and want it to last?"

"Murr."

"Very well."

Long minutes of kisses and nibbles followed stretching time like an infinitely elastic band until the ursid's lips reached the fox's neck. The fore claw of Oz's right paw maintained its orbit about Ross's nipple throughout while his left paw began a furtive exploration down his side until reaching his hips. Gripping the fox firmly, Oz pulled his friend closer until they were tightly spooned. The nylon of Ross' pants, the sheer, contour hugging fabric of his cold weather under layers, and Oz's wrap of tanned animal hide were an inconsequential barrier through which Ross felt the bear's semi-rigid member pressing between his buttocks, from the most forward extent of his taint to just below his tail.

Murring continuously, Ross partook of this delightful slice of eternity until gasping suddenly when the bear's paw stole its way forward cupping his groin and exploring the contours of his testicles and the increasing length of his stiffening organ. Smooth as silk, his cotton-spandex underwear tickled his cock as sweetly as the softest fur. Up, down, over, and around, the bear's intrepid paw probed every accessible surface of the fox's genitals. Developing separate rhythms, Oz's independently groping paws confused Ross' senses, further reducing him to a state of discordant delirium and subsequent sensual euphoria.

Exaggerated time hovered at the event horizon above a black hole of orgasmic infinity. The rest of the universe hastened to its burnt out ending, but the irresistible force of carnal attraction held Ross' heart in stasis, beating like a slow metronome locked at the boundary of two separate realities.

The gently probing contact with his groin delighted his swollen cock, making it jerk and spasm in a dry pantomime of ejaculation. Ross murred louder to proclaim his desire that Oz prolong his tease. In response, the bear moved his other paw southward until both were fondling the fox's two most sensitive areas through the triple film of fabric.

Front, back, and the bridge connecting Ross' erogenous zones experienced the roving, unpredictable, ticklish caress of fingers and thumbs. Locating the puckered dimple of pink flesh beneath he fox's tail, Oz's left forefinger prodded the shuttered portal, gradually loosening it to bloom unseen like a flower.

"You are still fully clothed, little fox. Would you like me to undress you?"

Isolated within a private bubble of delight, Ross was slow to understand but managed a breathy, "Uh huh."

Fasteners for clothing in Oz's culture typically consisted of pegs made from bone or ivory thrust through holes punched in leather or thin strips of hide tied together. The bear's claw tapped the shiny plastic surface of the uppermost black button of Ross' shirt as he simultaneously puzzled over and admired its construction.

"This attachment held in this precise hole with such fine string is extraordinarily well made. I would love to have clothes such as these."

Ross thought the ursid looked fine with no clothes on at all and wished to see him naked. Curiosity overcame paralyzing lethargy. Ross opened his eyes for the first time since falling asleep. Oz's deep, black onyx orbs gazed back into the fox's azure for a prolonged moment in the dim starlight before the bear kissed Ross' forehead and returned to puzzling over the magic of the button.

Pulling and pushing exposed its secret at last, and the shiny black disk slipped through its machine tailored hole. Delighted with his accomplishment, the ursid undid a second to ensure he had mastered the technique before pausing. Spreading the fabric, he exposed the glossy underwear beneath.

"So many layers. How many must I pass to find my little foxy's silky fur?"

The tip of the bear's snout pressed just inside Ross' ear as he spoke, tickling its sensitive, inner hairs. An accompanying enveloping hug, tight, but not unduly so elicited a loud purr from Ross, whose paralysis left his body as if carried away on that guttural sound. Reaching behind his own head, he felt along Oz's stubby snout with the tips of his fingers tracing the smooth curve of his lips and the hard edges of his teeth.

Playfully, Oz chewed and sucked on Ross' fingers while releasing the remainder of the buttons of his shirt. He easily pulled the garment down past Ross' wrists. As though suddenly in a desperate haste to remove the rest, he grasped the lower hem of the fox's undershirt and pulled it upward and inside out, dragging his lover's arms up over his head with it. Pinning the fox's wrists together by tying the long sleeves of the undershirt in a loose knot, Oz then placed the fox upon his back.

There was no force applied to keep Ross' wrists bound and immobile. He was free to escape whenever he wanted. It was a delicate gesture not intended to establish dominance or submission, but to convey the idea of surrendering to the tender ministrations of another. That same message was expressed in Oz's eyes as he lovingly gazed into Ross'.

"Ah. Such a pretty gray pelt on a lovely young tod."

Like a child scribbling with a crayon on the wall, the bear traced random, playful arcs through the short fur on his friend's chest. Circular furrows like the plow marks of drunken farmer remained in his wake wherever it had moved counter to the nap. Ticklish and helpless, Ross yipped and giggled.

The wandering digits eventually settled in an ever-tightening orbit about Ross' left nipple until the pad of one forefinger was gently caressing the sensitive, exposed flesh. Ross trembled uncontrollably as the vestigial gland stiffened and his erection grew larger in tandem. If Oz noticed his lover's growing arousal down below, he gave no sign. Instead, he abandoned the puckered nipple and began rubbing his paw over the fox's flat stomach, frequently brushing against the hem of Ross' pants.

"You should not sleep with so many clothes on, friend. They can become uncomfortably constricting as you toss about in your sleep. Let me open these up and set you free."

Anticipation associated with renewed stimulation of his most sensitive region brought Ross to a state of freely oozing puppy juice, soaking through his leggings to form a dark stain on the front of his trousers.

Clumsily, as if uncertain how to get inside his friend's pants, Oz's paws fumbled around Ross' damp groin. Intentionally unnecessary, the excessive touching caused by his feigned ignorance was exceptionally stimulating, and Ross murred for more, simultaneously sucking in his lower lip and biting down upon it as the steadily increasing throbbing of his cock propagated through his body. Orgasm was imminent, but he resisted its seductive promise of potent release. The pleasant torture of prolonging the penultimate moment was the sweetest ecstasy he had ever endured, but it was a demanding feat of exponentially increasing difficulty as his belt buckle was opened by the bear's adroit fingers.

Oz cupped his massive paw around Ross' balls and lightly held the zipper tab of Ross' fly between two claws. Like a roller coaster climbing a hill on its terrifying path towards the highest plunge, the slider rode up to the apex of the prominent mountain bisecting its course before descending just as slowly down the other side to its full open position.

As each interlocking pair of teeth released their handshake with their opposing neighbor, the underlying tension of Ross' canid member opened the gap wider revealing bright red fabric turned dark by an abundance of sticky fluid. The chisel-shaped tip of his swollen cock strained against the wet fabric.

Through it all, Oz hummed a fertility lullaby related to the Earth Mother. More compelling than Odysseus' sirens, the bear's charming refrain enticed Ross to yield to the pending surge struggling to issue violently from his trembling loins. Biting his lip harder, Ross scrunched his eyes tightly shut lest the added visual stimulus of his own arousal trigger the moment he was postponing. His other senses, though, worked to betray him by remaining acutely active, provoking his passion.

Familiar with buttons and having observed Ross work the zipper of the sleeping bag, Oz's playful ruse eventually ended with the fox's fly wide open and his pants at his knees. The tight hem of the fox's thermal leggings were an inconsequential barrier, but the bear rolled them downward anyway until they were tightly bunched at the fox's ankles, immobilizing his friend's hindpaws as effectively as his forepaws.

Though Oz's paws were as large as oven mitts, his fingers were nimble tools capable of fine motor control. Every hem and stitch of Ross' briefs were mapped by those intrepid explorers. The length and breadth of the terrain beneath was thoroughly surveyed. Ross's heavy panting and contented murrs signaled his friend that he was enjoying this part with intensity beyond any other region of his body.

Rigid and straining to escape its fabric prison, the canine shape of Ross' cock was conspicuous beneath the gossamer veil of his briefs. The more prominent veins bulged noticeably through the thin, wet material. With his forefinger, Oz traced their sinuous paths, up and down, back and forth with gradual strokes.

"Ah. Ah. Ah," huffed Ross and then whimpered his approval born of ecstatic torment.

Letting Ross' shirt and leggings detain his friend in bondage, Oz was free to grope and tease. Tickling the fox's taint elicited giggles. Inserting a fabric covered digit one knuckle deep into the fox's tailhole produced a gasp of surprise. Kneading his testicles, and wriggling in and out the fly and under the waistband of Ross' briefs made the fox's body jerk and spasm as if jolted with high voltage.

Determined to bypass the fox's last fabric defense, Oz's claws slipped under the elastic waistband and became lost amid the thatch of thick, silvery pubic fur they found alongside the taut tube of elastic flesh straining to escape. Like lions stalking through the long grass adjacent to a fallen tree, Oz's claws parted follicles as they stealthily prowled their way with feral determination towards the bulbous swelling at the base.

Light brushes against the fox's exposed flesh spurred more involuntary shudders throughout his body. A hastier lover might have pressed onward, but the bear was determined to honor Ross' wish and lingered long testing the limits of the fox's endurance for tantalizing foreplay.

This was the fox's paradise, but the cessation of pleasure is neither a tragedy nor a dissatisfying end. Anything infinite eventually loses its vitality. An effective denouement is necessary to deter tedium and provide satisfying closure. Judging his lover to be at his peak of arousal, Oz drew down Ross' briefs over his throbbing red flesh to tuck the hem under the swollen knot.

With his tongue, the ursid licked the sticky globs of clear fluid. The tips of his claws scritched at the thick mound of pubic fur. When his lips enveloped the head in their soft, warm embrace, Ross lost his battle with forbearance. A wild, pulsating fountain gushed forth into Oz's mouth. Suckling like a cub at its mother's teat, the ursid savored every drop of vulpine cream.

Jerking awake violently, an intense period of temporary confusion enveloped Ross followed by the lucid certainty that he had been dreaming again. The disorienting transition from the unreal to the real was familiar. There was no misconstruing the erotic encounter that had left him as stiff as a steel beam and covered in his own jizz for anything but a fictitious manifestation of his unconscious yearning.

Slowly querying his senses, Ross discovered several pleasant, congruent elements between the realms of dream and waking. Oz was spooned against him from behind holding tightly onto his small frame as if Ross was his hug pillow, a cherished stuffed toy, or best of all, his lover. Ross could feel the warmth of the large ursid's body against his back, feel his arm wrapped under his neck to clutch at his chest, but most of all, a giant paw rested on the tuft of thick fur above his sex exactly where it had been in his dream at his moment of awakening.

His shirt was unbuttoned, and his pants unzipped. Unfortunately, the front of his leggings were slimed just as thoroughly as in his dream, and his lingering erection was on display for anyone to see.

Worried that Oz would awaken and detect his shame, Ross held his breath and listened. The bear's breathing remained slow and steady. Inhaling, the fox caught a snout full of the bear's scent. A trace of lingering mustiness from Oz's damp loin wrap combined with his natural musk brewed an intoxicating fragrance. Ross' flagging erection rebounded in response.

A faint glimmer on the eastern horizon signaled the approach of sunrise. The pending burst of light was sure to wake Oz. Ross tried emptying his mind of the lurid images of his dream to soften his prominent case of morning wood.

The process of self-distraction led him to wonder how he had become partly undressed. Had he accomplished that himself in his sleep, or had it been Oz? He prayed it was the latter, even if an unconscious act, but every telltale indicated his bed-mate was deep asleep.

The suffix "mate" inspired Ross to giggle quietly but uncontrollably. He had fantasized about sharing his bed with someone like the bear since the jarring epiphany of puberty. Ever too shy to begin a conversation about intimacy, nothing short of a weird miracle could have made it this real. Courage, in small measure, was all he needed, but it was what he had always lacked, to take the final step.

Summoning his nerve, Ross opened his mouth to speak Oz's name, but the heaven sent opportunity vanished amid a hail of imploding safety glass. Something heavy had struck the roof of his vehicle, crumpling the thin metal side supports and bursting the windows into thousands of shards.

Oz woke up shouting and groping about in a panic.

"What's that?! What's happening?!"

Ross used the bear's confusion to stuff his flagging boner down in his damp underwear and close up his pants.

"I don't know. Did a tree fall on us?"

"No," answered Oz while looking out every window in turn. "There are none near enough."

The answer to the mystery entered through the empty frame of the tailgate window. Perched at the end of a long serpentine neck, a glittering red, reptilian head fringed with spikes spanned by iridescent webbing invaded their sleeping den. Golden, cat-slit eyes surrounded by protective, scale-covered ridges stared malevolently at each of the dumbstruck furs. Teeth evolved for tearing flesh gleamed like polished daggers in the early morning light when its mouth opened to extrude a black tongue that slithered between over-sized front incisors, tasting the air.

Ross cowered before the terrifying visage certain that his death lay within that menacing maw. Oz sat up and bravely placed himself between the fox and the monster, but even he shuddered when the creature's booming bass voice rumbled in the confined space like an avalanche upon a mountainside.

"I am Thrykryll," thundered the scaly head. "Who and what are you?"

Too astounded to speak, Ross could only gape at the mythical beast. As it shifted its weight upon the damaged SUV, large, leathery wings extended to eclipse the rising sun. Spanning nearly ten yards, they gave scale to the hidden bulk of what was undeniably a dragon.

Oz was equally frightened, but familiarity with the fauna of his world freed him from stupefaction.

"I am Osric son of Sephym," he answered.

Unconcealed hatred glared back.

"I know your kind, bear. You serve Myrphirisha and thus are my enemy. I will delight in eating you for my breakfast."

The heat of the dragon's evil gaze slithered from the bear to fix upon the trembling fox.

"You and this metal box I don't recognize. Has the Earth Mother brought forth a new kind of people to fight us? Is that why you are here?"

As the dragon's head approached Ross, Oz moved defiantly to maintain his body's position between the threat.

"No! He is not of this world. He is an outsider, brought here for I don't know what purpose. Your quarrel is with me, dragon. Leave him be."

Astounded and touched by his new friend's bravery and care for his well-being, Ross drew upon his own courage and dared to speak.

"I am Ross Hunter," he managed to proclaim, though his voice sounded like the whine of a terrified dog.

Thrykryll, using the blunt tip of his snout, easily pushed Oz's large frame aside and brought the tip within inches of Ross. Inhaling loudly and then snorting forth smoke in disgust, he drew his head and long neck back. The lingering fog of sulfurous smelling gas made Ross cough uncontrollably.

"He does have a queer aura about him - unfamiliar and confounding. Perhaps he is some kind of new weapon to try to turn the tide of war in Myrphirisha's favor. Worphyrgro will want to learn of you, study you, and interrogate you. I will take you both to him."

Convinced the evil lizard meant torture and execution, Ross considered how best to escape. The tranquilizer he had placed in the pouch on the back of the front passenger seat was within reach. One such dart, though, was unlikely to affect a creature as massive as this dragon seemed to be, and what peculiarities of its anatomy controlled the dosage to induce sleep, Ross had no idea. Unconsciously, his eyes strayed towards his supply of rifle darts hidden within the pile of gear against the opposite side of the car as he attempted to calculate how much of the drug it would take to knock out something with the mass of an elephant.

Suspicious and alert for resistance, Thrykryll followed the Fox's gaze. Turning his attention, and his long tongue, towards the equipment, a hiss and a puff of vapor comprised his assessment of the unfamiliar collection of objects.

"Give me an accounting of and purpose for everything you have here," demanded the dragon. "If you attempt to use a weapon, I shall fill this space with fire."

Oz was as ignorant of Ross' wonders as the dragon. He looked to the fox for an explanation. Ross stammered, struggling for a response that wouldn't get Oz and him killed. The rifle and darts were liable to enrage the dragon, but he could not think of a plausible lie. His delayed response did nothing to please their foe.

"Now!" ordered the dragon.

Ebony talons punched through the roof revealing Thrykryll's anger via the clenching of his claws. Billows of acrid smoke filled the cabin. Coughing and sputtering, Ross obeyed.

"Yes, sir."

The food supplies were easy to explain, but many materials were not, so Ross had to open samples for the dragon's inspection. Dried fruit, energy bars, and other plant based delicacies were dismissed, but the dragon greedily consumed all of Ross' jerky. Thrykryll was uninterested in cooking gear, flashlights, clothes, boots, and packs even if they were beyond the technology of his world. The last item was the long, zippered case containing Ross' rifle. Ross opened the case and removed the gun. Even to the bear and dragon's inexperienced eyes, it had the look and feel of a dangerous weapon.

"What is this?" hissed the dragon as his tongue brushed against the barrel tasting the residue of gunpowder.

"It's called a rifle. It shoots projectiles at high velocity."

"Ah. A weapon. Show me how it works...very slowly and carefully. I will bite off your head if try to use it on me."

Paws trembling, Ross worked the various mechanisms showing how to insert a dart in the chamber and explaining what the darts did.

"It's really not meant to kill. It puts an animal to sleep so I can study it and tag it for tracking."

"Don't try to put me to sleep," warned the dragon clamping his teeth around the barrel as if to snatch it away.

"I don't think I can. These darts are for small animals about my size. It would probably take more darts than I have to affect you."

Thrykryll did not believe the fox, but he released his toothsome grip.

"Put the rifle and darts back in the bag and bring them outside. Leave the rest of this junk here."

"What are you going to do with us?" demanded Oz.

"I already told you. You're going to the Earth Father."

"May I bring some food and water?" asked Ross

Thrykryll laughed. Nothing congenial or friendly found harbor in that malevolent chortle, only the promise of suffering and death.

"Certainly. You are entitled to a last meal."

With the car's roof crumpled and the side supports bent, none of the doors functioned. Ross and Oz climbed out the broken back tailgate. For the first time, Ross was able to view the body of the dragon and wondered how it hadn't crushed the vehicle completely. Like a bird, it must possess light bones, he mused. Thrykryll dismounted from his perch, rocking the SUV from side to side and nearly toppling it as he heaved his bulk to the ground.

"Get on," he ordered.

Oz balked.

"Are you crazy? Your back is covered with spikes. There's nowhere to sit, and without a saddle we'll fall off."

"There's room between the dorsal fins behind my neck. You may hold on tight to those."

Unconvinced and recalcitrant, Oz made no move. Ross meekly stood behind his friend unsure what to do in the face of what he believed to be the dragon's inevitable fury.

Positioning his huge, squamous snout to within a scale's thickness of Oz's nose, gunmetal smoke issued from Thrykryll's nostrils and from the corners of his mouth. The bear exhaled then held his breath to avoid a coughing fit.

"Climb on my back willingly, mammal, or I carry you much less comfortably in my mouth, or perhaps my stomach would better suit you."

Thrykryll bared his long, javelin pointed teeth for emphasis. Oz seemed prepared to make a defiant stand, so Ross placed a paw on Oz's back and whispered to his friend.

"We'd better do what he says. He'll kill us if we don't."

"And he'll likely kill us later if we do," whispered Oz in return. "I'm inclined to be as troublesome as possible, but I suppose there is always hope. This may be part of the Earth Mother's plan. I shall place my faith in her. With her protection, our future may yet extend beyond this day."

"You win, dragon," said Oz pushing Thrykryll's fuming muzzle aside intent on maintaining what dignity he thought the dragon would allow. "Get on your belly so I can reach your fins and haul myself up."

"I get on my belly for no one save the Earth Father," grumbled Thrykryll aggrieved by the bear's demeaning request.

Ross yelped in alarm when the dragon's mouth closed upon the back of Oz's neck. Thrykryll's intent was not to kill, though. Grasping the scruff with his chitinous lips, the dragon hefted Oz into the air and plopped him unceremoniously between two spinal plates.

"Hey!" complained Oz more from the indignity of the dragon's action than any personal harm or discomfort. "You almost impaled me."

"Stop complaining. You're not doing any work. I'm the one stuck lifting and carrying your fat, furry ass."

Thrykryll turned to the quivering fox.

"Bring your secret weapons. Leave the rifle in its bag while we fly, or I will drop you both to your deaths."

Ross shouldered his pack of supplies and the rifle case then hunched forward while covering his eyes in anticipation of receiving similar mistreatment as Oz. Instead of being yanked up by the back of his neck, a warm puff of breath blew his silvery hair back. Opening his eyes, he was mesmerized by Thrykryll's golden gaze until the dragon tipped his head sideways placing one of the great horns sprouting from the top of his skull within reach.

"Grab it and hold on tight," he ordered.

Ross did, and was lifted with ease into a position just forward of Oz. Scarcely able to wrap his paws around the stiff, vertical blade between his legs, the fox was nearly thrown free when the dragon launched itself into the air with a jump and powerful beats of its massive wings.

Higher they climbed with dizzying speed. Ross nearly wet himself from the resulting vertigo and lurching motion accompanying wing strokes that were nearly as violent as a bucking rodeo bull. Shutting his eyes, he clung tightly until the flying reptile reached its gliding altitude. Emboldened by the sudden calm movement, Ross dared to peek, astounding himself with the view.

Soaring at several thousand feet, a tortured landscape drifted beneath his hindpaws. Verdant swaths of forest and fields of idyllic, pastoral beauty were separated by open fissures, steaming fumaroles, molten flowing rock, and plains of recently hardened lava. The whole spectacle had the appearance of green islands adrift in a violent red and black sea.

"The Earth Mother and Earth Father are estranged and fight each other for dominance and mastery," said Oz in explanation for the bizarre geography. "The mother creates, and the Father destroys. It is a pity because they are both necessary for balance. What you see below is the most recent result of their eons old battle, and we, their children, are caught in the middle."

"So you fight for Myrphirisha, and Thrykryll fights for Worphyrgro?"

"I would not call what I do fighting, but yes, in essence that is how the lines are drawn in this tiff."

A contemptuous snort from Thrykryll revealed he was eavesdropping on their conversation.

"This is no tiff, no lover's quarrel. It is all out war, and Worphyrgro will win because he is stronger."

"There are many kinds of strengths, dragon," countered Oz. "Force of arms alone cannot win. Besides, what use is victory without hope for new life?"

"What good is life without conflict, death, and change? A stagnant world forever frozen in place is worth nothing."

Unable to compromise or see the other's point of view, Osric and Thrykryll lapsed into a mutual, contentious silence. After many long minutes, the drake spoke again to complain about their weight making him tired.

"I need to glide. The rising warm air will keep us aloft, and the sluggish tail wind will push us forward, but this is going to be a long, slow trip."

True to the dragon's prediction, without the steady forward thrust of his wings, the landscape crawled by barely above the speed of a horse at light gallop. At first, roller-coaster like plunges in turbulent air induced by the chaotic terrain below made Ross and Oz nauseous, portending a grueling trip, but the bumps became less frequent as the dragon soared higher into a zone of stable air flow, transforming his flight into a series of small dips and gentle banking turns from side to side like a rocking hammock.

A warm moist breeze played with Ross' fur brushing it one way and then another in a restful cadence. Hours passed giving him time to let his mind wander and to daydream.

His idle paws explored the dragon's scales. Spade shaped and overlapping, they were nearly as large as his paw. Surprisingly warm to the touch, they were covered in a light, almost invisible, downy fluff like that of a baby bird. Stroking them was calming and lulled Ross into a blissful torpor.

Startled by a harsh, guttural snort, Ross realized Thrykryll had craned his head and neck backward to glare at him.

"What are you doing, puny mammal?"

Guiltily snatching back his paws and clutching them to his chest, Ross stammered trying to invent a credible answer.

"I...uh...I guess...I...Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...at least I didn't think that you'd feel that."

"Not feel a part of my own body? Absurd. Of course I can feel your touch."

"But your scales...they are like armor, right?"

"Yes. So?"

"I thought they would be cold, hard, and unfeeling like metal."

His curiosity aroused, Oz placed a paw upon Thrykryll's back testing the texture. The huge reptile's eyes shifted to the new source of tactile intrusion. His scaly brow arched in surprise.

"How dare you?" demanded the dragon. "I should roast you for your impudence."

Osric glared back with equal menace.

"You intend to kill us anyway, so go ahead. Besides, what harm is there in touching you with our paws? We're already sitting on your back. Is my butt cleaner?"

A hot puff of yellowish-gray vapor shot forth from Thrykryll's nostrils. The wind carried it rapidly past the two fur's snouts, but no gout of flame followed.

"Oils secreted from your paw pads coat the sensory hairs on my scales. It is...," The dragon seemed at a momentary loss for justifying his indignation. "...it's not right and might hinder my ability to fly," he added lamely.

"I doubt that, but if that is what you want, then we will keep our paws to ourselves, right friend Ross?"

"Right," Ross agreed hoping to mollify the dragon, but the beguiling eyes of his captor would not release him, and thoughts unknown and possibly unknowable swam just beneath the surface of their amber iridescence.

Tense moments ticked by like a metronome before Thrykryll snorted again but this time with a white puff that smelled like a lightly scented candle.

"If you must do something with your grubby paws, then do something useful like removing punkki."

Ross had no idea what 'punkki' meant, and neither did Osric because the bear was equally perplexed.

"What is punkki?" asked Oz.

"Something more irritating than you, bear. Punkki are parasites that crawl under my scales, from where they bite and suck at my blood. They itch worse than sand. I can reach them with my claws and fangs everywhere except upon my back where you two have parked your furry butts."

After exchanging puzzled glances, Osric and Ross both pried up a scale with their fore-claws and peered underneath. Neither saw anything recognizable as a parasite, but they weren't sure what they were hunting.

"I don't see anything," said Ross.

Osric agreed.

"Look under another scale. They're shaped like a flattened cone with a wide base."

It soon became a game to find the first one, and victory went to the fox.

"Aha! Found one. It looks like a limpet."

"Congratulations. Such a clever mammal," said Thrykryll dryly. "Pry it off."

Ross tried, but like their sea dwelling earth counterparts, they clung so tight his claws were unequal to the task. Oz soon discovered one and experienced similar frustration.

"They won't come off," complained Ross, but an idea struck him as he spoke. Retrieving his pocketknife from its scabbard on his belt, he unfolded the gleaming blade, and it snapped into place with a click. Thrykryll's eyes widened in alarm, and black smoke poured from his nostrils.

"What are you doing?"

Ross glanced back and forth between the blade and the dragon's suspicious eye.

"Oh...yeah...this looks bad. I'm not going to stab you. I just want to use this knife to pry off the punkki."

"Very well. You may proceed, but I will roast you if steel pierces flesh."

"Fair enough. Just try to fly steady while I do this, and you won't feel a thing."

The knife blade did the trick, and Ross had soon dislodged nearly twenty of the pests tossing them over his shoulder to fall to earth. Beaten to find the first, Osric competed to get the most using his bone knife with amazing skill.

Convinced neither would dare to harm him, Thrykryll stretched his neck forward. The air currents made flight effortless. Inaction on his part combined with the warm sun on his wings, and the pleasure of grooming lulled him into a state of torpid contentment. A low rumbling began deep in his chest growing steadily in volume.

Ross and Oz felt the vibrations through the contact of their legs and buttocks. The accompanying sound, when it became audible, was an out-sized hybrid between a strummed bass guitar and an idling diesel engine. The bear and fox exchanged puzzled glances.

"Is he purring?" mouthed Ross.

Oz shrugged his shoulders in response, and they silently returned to removing punkki.

The phenomenon was indeed the dragon equivalent of a cat's purr. Thrykryll found the never before experienced attention of the small mammals uniquely pleasurable, and in this tranquil state, his reptilian thoughts wandered down rarely trod paths.

If he had a mate, she would do for him what the mammals were accomplishing, but Thrykryll was still young for a dragon, barely two hundred years old. It would be several centuries still before he grew large and strong enough to attract a life long companion. Until then, his understanding of what to expect from that relationship was based upon infrequent conversations with others of his kind.

Like all dragons, he was abandoned by his parents to fend and learn for himself soon after breaking free of his egg. Adults were as likely to kill him as tolerate a conversation, so his knowledge was based on infrequent discussions with other young dragons willing to bear his company. The truth, he discovered, was that they knew little to nothing more than he. The only tidbit he ever extracted was that intuition and instinct would guide him when the time came.

Pondering the subject aroused slumbering emotions. The presence of Oz and Ross upon his back further stimulated his nascent id. Beyond his conscious control, his pair of penises swelled and emerged from the ventral bulge forward of his anus and tail. That had only happened before in his dreams. Craning his neck downward, he espied the glistening, mottled, black and red tubes with their spear shaped tips. His wings adjusted automatically to the aerodynamic drag they imposed.

Thrykryll wondered at the cause of his arousal. Flying was a pleasant but mundane activity that never induced similar feelings. Surely it was something to do with the novelty of his captives. The sensations of their clothes, fur, and musculature dominated his consciousness like no unreachable itch ever could. Every contour of their bodies cast itself like a die into his brain.

They were males like him. That fact was evident from the moment they had climbed atop his back. He could detect their sex easily enough through the flimsy clothes they wore, but what troubled him was the additional excitement that imparted, more so than if they had been female. The incongruousness of his reaction was puzzling in that he could recollect no correspondence in his limited lore of mating discussions of males sharing sexual experience. Females were the accepted and expected target of this form of arousal, and the female should be a dragon in heat, not two scrawny mammals that reeked of sweat and musty fur.

Thoughts of keeping the pair for his personal pleasure crept unbidden into his consciousness like thieves to steal his treasure hoard. Something about the gray fox's smell had titillated his brain the first time he inhaled his scent, but it was treason not to take his captives to the Earth Father.

Thrykryll considered the possibility anyway. Dragon hearts were covetous and did not balk at betrayal or any other crime to possess what they desired be it gold or delights of the flesh. Making a slight adjustment of his present course, he began drifting towards his cave where he could slither far underground with his prizes. Safely hidden, he would be free to take his pleasure from them.

The gray fox was suitably tractable. He would be a perfect, if small, toy for Thrykryll's sexual experiments. The bear was larger, and closer to the dragon's size offering some additional opportunities, but he was also less compliant. He would try to escape and take the fox with him if he could. Thrykryll would watch the bear closely because he wanted them both. Two could give, and take more pleasure than one.

Both possessed tail holes. Thrykryll's double penis arrangement was meant to fill a female's ova and her anus, but there was no reason two male mammals wouldn't do as well. The shorter distal member might fit in the fox, and the larger forward one could be accommodated by the bear. If the ursid proved unwilling, Thrykryll could simply eat him and satisfy another of his appetites.

Lost in his lustful scheming, and with the fox and bear preoccupied removing punkki, Thrykryll and his captives were unaware they were targeted for attack until three humanoid shapes swept down from above and behind. Reminiscent of gargoyles from earth legends, they were bizarre wedge-shaped creatures covered in a light, bluish gray, knobbly skin the consistency of saddle leather with gangling arms, stubby legs, bat like wings, and an elongate, streamlined skull sporting a snout full of razor sharp teeth. Their bulging, leering eyes thirsted for blood and hungered for flesh.

Either the fiends didn't recognize the fox and bear as separate creatures or because they preferred the taste of dragon, they ignored the furs and struck Thrykryll along his flanks and wings, attaching themselves with their claws and biting with their teeth. Thrykryll roared in pain shaking his body, rolling from side to side, and frantically bucking and writhing to dislodge the attackers.

Oz and Ross were nearly thrown from his back and screamed for him to stop lest they fall to their deaths. Surprisingly compliant considering the danger, Thrykryll ceased his spasms and instead flexed his long neck to bite or shoot jets of flame at the attackers. His tail also thrashed about like a giant whip, but the horrors were like sparrows to an eagle, much faster and more maneuverable than the dragon, easily avoiding his strikes.

"What are these things?" shouted Ross. "Are they here to save us? Will they listen if we ask them to stop?"

"I doubt it," answered Oz. "Besides, there's nothing of the Earth Mother's making about them. I suspect they are from another world like you, brought here by the energy released in the mother-father battle."

"They're a common enemy then. We have to do something to save Thrykryll. He can't defend himself and keep us on his back."

"What can we do? I can barely hold on."

Despite the danger and confusion, a scheme to repel the monstrosities was forming in Ross' mind.

"Can you tie us down somehow?"

Oz looked about noting the position and orientation of some nearby lateral spikes.

"Yes. I think so."

"Do it!"

Unwrapping and removing his loin cloth, Oz made a slip knot in one end, looped it over a nearby down-angled spike, and pulled it tight. It went around his waist once, hooked behind the dorsal fin at his back, and ended in a knot around a spike on the other side. The improvised restraint seemed adequate to keep him on the dragon's back through the wildest gyrations.

"There isn't enough buckskin for both of us. I'll have to hold on to you."

Oz placed his muscular arms around Ross' chest. It was all the reassurance the small fox needed. Without turning to look, Ross knew the ursine was naked. The rest of his clothing was left behind in his car. Pressed between the bear's thighs, Ross' bushy tail confirmed the obvious, distracting him with thoughts of his erotic dream.

Driving the lurid notions away, Ross focused on his plan. Thrykryll's stamina was fading. Blood oozed from numerous wounds. Too little strength remained in him to simultaneously fight and fly. Soon he would be unable to do either. They were already losing altitude.

"It will have to do," said Ross to Oz. "Now hold me tight. I can shoot them with my rifle if my aim is steady."

Ross assembled the weapon, attaching its precision scope and chambered a tranquilizer dart. He tried to line a shot at a gargoyle, but they buzzed and jinked erratically through the air or were obscured behind the dragon's bulk when they did make contact to slash and dig under Thrykryll's scales.

"Thrykryll!" shouted Ross. "Listen to me! I can save us, but you have to do exactly what I tell you. Do you understand?"

The dragon turned its large head towards Ross and gazed at him with one weary eye.

"I should have burned you two off first," he growled with lackluster intent, "but it's too late now. I am nearly done for."

"Don't give up. I want you to shake these creatures off one last time. Don't worry about Oz and me. We're secure. Then fold your wings and fall. Do not use your wings to slow yourself. We must go as fast as we can so the gargoyles will appear stationary behind us. Then I can shoot them with my magic weapon."

The dragon's eye squinted in disbelief at his suggestion.

"You must trust me, Thrykryll. I can save us."

For several heartbeats, Ross thought the fatigued dragon would reject his request or simply lacked the energy to comply, but a renewed glow within his huge eyes signaled his willing acceptance to try.

Oz and Ross were ready for the dragon's convulsions. The gargoyles were not. Two were completely thrown off, but the third clung tenaciously with one claw to a lateral horn just below Oz's hind paw.

With a satisfied grin, Oz kicked the ugly creature in the face sending it tumbling and cartwheeling behind them to eventually right itself alongside it's brothers. Clued into the furs' presence, three pairs of hate-filled eyes locked on the bear and fox.

"Now, Thrykryll!" shouted Ross. "Dive!"

With a sigh mixed with relief and despair, the dragon closed his huge wings. They fell. Sickening, the vertiginous sensation caught Ross by surprise, but Oz's reassuring hold steadied his nerve allowing him to concentrate.

As Ross had hoped, the gargoyles followed, intent on their prey, steady and unwavering in their pursuit. Physics provided the shots he needed through an elegant, if terrorizing, real life experiment. Treating all objects within its embrace equally, the acceleration of gravity is a world wide constant, and hence the speed at which things fall is the same regardless of mass or size, as long as air resistance is neglected. The gargoyles shape did offer less wind resistance than the dragon, but the difference was trivial.

Relative to each other, the dragon and Ross' targets seemed stationary. Facing backwards with the rifle's barrel resting on Oz's shoulder, only the steady rush of air informed Ross that he was speeding towards a gruesome rendezvous with the ground. The distressing image was easy to push from his mind. Oz held him tight, and he felt secure even after calculating that he had less than twenty seconds before impact.

Blotting out all distractions, he sighted through his scope, chose a target, exhaled, and slowly squeezed the trigger. The creature flinched and wobbled in its descent but quickly smoothed out again. Wasting no time worrying if the dart penetrated the gargoyles thick hide or even if the drug would affect it, he chose his next victim.

A second dart went into the rifle's chamber with mechanical precision. The trigger clicked, a minor recoil and a soft sound lost in the howling gale of their descent were the only indications he had taken his second shot. Again, the targeted monster shuddered but kept coming. One enemy remained. Ross chambered the third round, but the sudden return of gravity as the dragon's wings unfurled robbed him of the opportunity.

Thrykryll and Oz had both been watching the ground's rapid approach; the bear with terror, and Thrykryll with the calculating confidence of a seasoned aviator. Precision gained from over a century of practice allowed the dragon to skim above tree tops and rocky crags with mere yards to spare.

The two darted gargoyles sped downward behind Thrykryll to splatter upon the ground. The third, unharmed, copied the dragon's maneuver, overtaking the larger flier and diving straight for the two furs. Its arms spread wide as it struck them, breaking Oz's improvised restraint and wrenching them off the dragon's back.

The dragon's momentum carried Thrykryll forward, but his stamina was depleted. Snapping branches and shattering tree trunks, he disappeared from sight through a copse of tall firs.

Veering left, the gargoyle carried Ross and Oz over patches of boggy ground separated by thickets of low shrubs. Ross' sharp teeth sank into the creature's leathery arm causing it to drop him. Instinctively, the little fox hugged the rifle against his body as he slid on his back to a stop in a squelching, shallow, muddy pond.

Simultaneously, Oz drove his fist into the gargoyle's face flipping it onto it's back to crash into an adjacent pool of muck. Ross ended up on top of the creature pounding it furiously, but the fiend was stronger still, reversed their fortunes, and forced Oz's head underwater.

Struggling to save his friend, Ross staggered through the ooze sucking at his hindpaws and stopped the moment he had a clear shot. Too close to miss, he fired from the hip, putting a dart in the middle of the monster's back.

It ignored the sting and persisted drowning the bear. In desperate fear for his friend's life, Ross lurched forward losing his shoes to the mud. Closing the distance, he used all his strength to whack the butt of his rifle solidly against the side of the gargoyle's head.

A blow that would have concussed a normal being only succeeded in gaining its attention. Releasing the bear, it turned on the fox. Towering over Ross, the gray, flying horror reached out with its claws and sinewy arms to tear him apart only to succumb instead to the tranquilizer's narcotic effect. Its eyes rolled back in its head as it toppled forward on top of Ross pushing him underwater and into the pond's bed of sticky clay.

For an avian, it was surprisingly heavy. Ross had never been strong, and the mud held his arms and legs like glue. He fought desperately to free himself, but it was hopeless. Unable to move or poke his snout past the water's shimmering surface, his meager supply of oxygen soon expired.

Before it did, he agonized over the terrible certainty that Oz and he would drown and be forever forgotten in this horrible place. It was a monstrously irreconcilable injustice.

Carbon dioxide building in his blood forced him closer to the inevitable and involuntary inhalation that would fill his lungs with water. Milliseconds before that deadly breath arrived, the weight upon his chest vanished, and two burly, brown arms wrapped around his torso, broke the viscous goo's hold upon his limbs, and brought him back into the world of air and light. Deep, shuddering breaths and a fit of coughing followed before Ross was able to register that he was cradled in Oz's arms.

"Thank you, Oz. You saved my life."

"Only because you saved mine first. Are you hurt?"

"No. The mud and water cushioned the impact. Where is Thrykryll?"

"Over there somewhere," said Oz pointing to the swath of splintered trees.

Ross tore his gaze from Oz's beautiful, if mud caked, nakedness and scrutinized the path of destruction. It led up a slight rise.

The fox and bear struggled through the downed branches and shattered trunks until they encountered a wall of columnar basalt a dozen feet high with a ruined temple perched atop it. The structure consisted of a dome supported by tall marble pillars, many of which were toppled or broken. Despite its antiquity and the recent upheaval of the surrounding land, the dome did not appear in danger of collapsing.

From below, they spied the tip of one of Thrykryll's leathery wings projecting between two pillars, but nothing else of the dragon was visible. A stairway led upward through a gap in the wall, so they followed it. Halfway to the top they discovered a gentle waterfall through which they had to pass.

Covered in mud, Oz and Ross lingered beneath the cascade a minute or two in the surprisingly warm water until all the filth coating their fur and Ross' clothes had been washed away. Resuming their climb, they found that Thrykryll had come to rest within the temple and lay upon his side against the encircling ring of marble plinths.

Inert, his body was covered with numerous bloody wounds, his eyes were closed, and one wing was clearly broken. Ross gasped in distress.

"Is he dead?"

"I don't know," answered Oz as he moved to investigate.

Placing his ear aside Thrykryll's scaly chest, Oz detected the dragon's fluttering heartbeat.

"He's alive, but only barely."

"Can you save him? You're a healer, right?"

"These injuries are too great for my modest skills. A wing I can set, but I think he's more broken on the inside than the outside. It would take very powerful healing magic to save him."

"Where do we get that kind of magic?"

Oz's brow furrowed with incredulity.

"Why are you so intent on saving him? He's the enemy. He was taking us to our deaths."

"Oh, yeah. Right. Well...I don't know," answered the fox, faltering in his attempt to understand his own motives. "Maybe it's Stockholm Syndrome or something, but I'm kind of attached to him now. He has a gruff charm and didn't throw us off his back even though he would have been able to fight better without us slowing him down."

"That's true I suppose," admitted Oz.

"Also, he trusted me to help save his life. I feel kind of responsible for him, and it just seems like the right thing to do. Does that make sense?"

Oz's dubious stare turned to an amused smile. Placing both of his meaty paws on Ross' narrow shoulders, he chuckled softly.

"It makes my soul soar with the joy of a songbird in spring to hear you say that."

It was Ross' turn to frown.

"Were you testing me?"

"Only to prove what I already believed in my heart, that you have compassion to spare. You are a true ally of the Earth Mother and deserving of her assistance. I am grateful to have met you and proud to count you as my friend."

Smiling shyly, Ross blushed. The source of his embarrassment was not so much the bear's praise but the fox's secret desire that Oz become more than just a friend. Ross would surrender any chance of returning home just to experience the bear's love.

"I want to do whatever I can to save the dragon," said Ross.

"As do I, but I wasn't lying about the need for healing magic. I can think of only one way. We must bring the gods here to heal the dragon. Only they can do it."

"How do we attract them?"

Oz looked askance at Ross and cringed.

"I'm not sure that you are going to like the answer. I mean...we don't have all the right...ingredients here and too much of...one in particular."

"I don't understand what you're talking about, Oz. What don't we have? Maybe if we split up and search we can find what you need. Is it herbs, berries, tree sap, minerals, what?"

"No. No. It's nothing we can just go find nearby."

"Can we make do with what we have?"

Yeessss," said the bear drawing out the word as if unsure of his answer. "I think we could if we put forth exceptional effort."

Grabbing the bear's arm with both his paws and tugging insistently, Ross expressed his eagerness to help.

"I want to do it for Thrykryll. What do you need me to do?"

Oz took a deep breath before answering.

"As I said before, you probably aren't going to like it. You see, the most powerful magic of all is love."

Oz hesitated to determine if Ross was getting the hint, but the naive fox just stared back uncomprehendingly waiting for him to finish explaining. Growling in abashed frustration, the bear discarded subtlety for the obvious.

"Sex, little foxy. I'm talking about romantic sex between two lovers. That always attracts the Earth Mother and Father's attention, drawing them in like moths to a candle flame."

"Okay...," said Ross grappling with the strange concept and still missing Oz's point. "But where do we find the lovers? This temple is deserted, and while flying I saw no sign of anybody for miles around..."

Slowly but inexorably, comprehension arrived on his conscious doorstep. Ross' lower jaw dropped open, and his eyes grew large and round like drops of spilled ink expanding on an absorbent cloth.

"You mean...you...and...and I? You want us to be lovers?"

Mistaking the fox's shock for disgust, Oz hung his head.

"I understand if it makes you queasy and uncomfortable. I won't be offended if you say no."

For the first time since his weird adventure began, Ross saw clearly what Oz did not. Laughing at his discomfiture, he hugged the bear tightly about his waist.

"I would never say no, you big dope. I've had the hots for you since that moment you climbed in my car all sopping wet."

"Really?" Oz rubbed the fox's back. "I'm an idiot for not seeing that. In my defense, though, I've had a lot of other things to worry about since I first found you."

A thought occurred to Ross dampening his enthusiasm. Releasing Oz from his embrace, the fox clasped his paws behind his back, and shuffled his hindpaws nervously with his tail tucked between his legs.

"You're doing this because you want to, right, not just because we need to save Thrykryll?"

In answer, Oz leaned down and nuzzled beneath Ross' left ear and whispered to him in a husky voice pregnant with desire.

"I would want to make love to you even if this crotchety old dragon recovered fully and flew away right now."

The fox shivered with unbridled expectation. Too excited to contain himself, he leapt onto the bear, wrapping his legs about his waist and his arms he flung over Oz's broad shoulders. His fluffy tail curled between Oz's thighs to caress his exposed genitals.

"Let's do it now!"

"In a hurry are you?"

"Well...yes...and no, actually. I'm in a hurry to save Thrykryll, but...I know this sounds silly, but I don't want you to hurry. I would like it if you spent a lot of time just caressing and...um...undressing me."

"Slow eh? This is going to sound uncanny, but I had a dream last night in which we made love, and you wanted the same thing only you weren't able to speak and say as much. Still, we made do with murrs and..."

"Wait! That was my dream. I had that same dream."

"How oddly prophetic."

Oz scratched at his thigh absently while recalling the details of their shared nocturnal vision.

"The way it happened in the dream, is that how you want it?"

Ross began blushing again.

"I...I think so. At least it's what I have always fantasized. I can't be sure not having...you know...done it before."

"Whoa! Wait a minute. Are you telling me you're a virgin?"

A crimson blush spread across Ross' snout, ears, and cheeks.

"Kind of. Is that bad? I mean I'm inexperienced, but I've read a lot of..."

Oz's barking baritone laugh cut short Ross' protestations.

"Are you kidding? That makes the magic very powerful indeed. The Earth Mother and Father have a special fondness for first times."

Oz lowered Ross to the pads of his hindpaws and stepped back to appraise his new lover.

"You are a pretty little fox. It will be my pleasure to undress you and finally see you as the gods made you."

Unable to divert his gaze, Ross stared at the bear's furry, brown sheath and the round fruit that hung beneath it. Realizing that he was being rude and contributing nothing towards their love making, Ross began fumbling with the slippery buttons of his shirt. He wasn't able to get the first one unfastened before Oz placed a paw over his to stop him.

"Not so fast, jackrabbit. You said slow, and I'm going to give you slow."

With the ease that comes with abundant muscle, Oz hefted Ross and cradled him in his arms. The temple contained a broad, flat alter made of marble. Placing Ross supine upon it, Oz commenced lightly caressing the vulpine's head, chest, and stomach.

The sensation of Oz's paws moving over his body was exquisite. Claws parted the fur around his ears, then over his cheeks, along the supple cords of his neck, all over his sodden shirt until the bear's paws were squeezing Ross' butt and brushing over the fly of his pants.

Unsure what to do or how to respond to the bear's foreplay, Ross' body seemed to understand. An uncomfortable bulge formed in his jeans.

"You're adorable," Oz said in a voice filled with desire.

"You think I'm adorable?"

"From the initial moment I gazed upon you asleep in your car. I was afraid at first of what kind of evil sorcerer would have such a contraption, but after studying your beatific face, I knew you were virtuous. At that moment, the longing to be more than just your friend first began."

"That's incredible. I felt the same way about you after I got over my initial fright. I feel so stupid now. If only it was more obvious when two people are interested in each other. If only..."

The bear's short muzzle slid forward. Misinterpreting the action for a kiss, Ross opened his lips a fraction, but the bear's snout moved past to nuzzle him behind the ear. The ticklish sensation was deeply sensuous. As if hot with fever, Ross began to pant. His tongue lolled out of his mouth. Oz silenced the fox's heavy breathing by locking lips with his.

It was not the fox's first romantic kiss, but it surpassed the few others that came before, relegating their status to that of passionless phantoms best forgotten. When it ended, Ross pined for its return.

Using the foreclaw of his right paw, Oz tapped the top button of Ross' shirt.

"You wear complicated clothes, but I think that I remember from the dream how to tease these open."

The bear played at removing his lover's clothes, drawing out the exquisite disrobing with leisurely precision and provocative caresses. Employing his claws like a surgeon's forceps, Oz popped the first button through its hole exposing the pale tuft of fur at the top of the Fox's chest.

"Aha! So you are not the same, uniform gray everywhere. How intriguing. What color shall I find when I reach my goal?"

Though inexperienced in sex play, Ross was certain he knew the goal of which Oz spoke, or at least the general region to which he referred. His own body agreed as the tightness of his wet pants became nearly unbearable around his swollen erection.

Congruence of the antecedent night's fantasy with daylight's verisimilitude produced within the fox the triple sensations of déjà vu, precognition, and breathless anticipation for each pending erotic moment. Oblivious to his surroundings, Ross relinquished himself to the tactile bliss of the bear's gentle caresses. Every light brush against the fabric covering his groin was a moment of pure delight. Oz's unfastening of the button and then the zipper of his trousers achieved an exquisiteness complemented by the bear's manner of inching the fox's pants towards Ross' hindpaws with relentless tickling of the insides of his thighs and the backs of his calves as he progressed. Repeating the process on the tight leggings brought Ross to the brink of orgasm.

"My. My," said Oz gazing at Ross' wet, red briefs standing out so proudly. "Shall we see if your little fox is as handsome as the rest of you?"

Hyper-stimulated and poised to cum, Ross clenched his teeth and nodded. Oz's paws moved over Ross' hips and across his belly looping and swirling as though he were tracing magic sigils in his fur. The mesmerizing patterns terminated at the waistband of Ross' underwear.

Executing the final act of their shared dream script, Oz roamed over that last thin barrier of material probing and petting the wonders beneath. Ross writhed, moaned, and panted through it all experiencing bliss far beyond his fantasies and dreams. Contact with his cock, balls, taint, and tailhole was punctuated with intermittent kisses.

Clinging to each brush of Oz's lips with a violent fervor, Ross believed no greater ecstasy existed until the bruin began tugging at his underpants, exposing a thick patch of silver fur and allowing Ross' canine penis to escape in all of its shiny red glory.

"He is a handsome fellow, and this part looks like fun." With one finger, Oz traced the circumference of the swollen bulb at the base of Ross' cock. The sensation made the fox's body tremble involuntarily. "I've never seen one like this before."

"D...d...doesn't your world have canines like me? Foxes? Wolves? Dogs?"

"Not around here, but I have heard rumors including ones describing the shape of your anatomy. I just didn't believe them before. We can put this extra girth to good use later. Right now, it looks like you have a gift for me."

Beads of moisture from their shower glistened on Ross' cock in the afternoon sunlight, but the tendril that hung from its tip was of his own making. Oz's tongue intercepted that viscous stalactite and followed it up to its source to make contact with the sensitive end of Ross' member. Arching his back, Ross groaned in pleasure as the bear's lips and tongue caressed him with their warm dexterity.

With eyes clenched tightly shut to amplify tactile sensations, Ross' fuzzy ears discerned a guttural rumble of pleasure. Assuming it was Osric, he laughed.

"You sound just like Thrykryll..." he began, but paused when Oz released his dick from the warm embrace of his mouth.

Opening his eyes, Ross noticed the bear was gazing past him towards the dragon. Thrykryll was spying upon their lovemaking with one weary eye, the corners of his scaly snout upturned in a reptilian approximation of a smile.

"Don't stop on my account," hissed the dragon while releasing faint jets of steam from his nostrils. "You are pleasing to watch. I shall enjoy my last moments better observing such a display."

Ignoring Thrykryll's request, the two furs ran to his side. Oz inspected his wounds while Ross tenderly stroked the dragon's snout.

"Is the magic working?" asked Ross.

Thrykryll appeared no less broken and mortally wounded than before they had begun. Oz shook his head.

"Why not?" pleaded Ross.

"I don't know," he answered. Frustration was evident in his voice. Clenching his paws into fists above his head, Oz shouted at the sky. "Earth Mother! Where are you? Please come! One of your children needs your help!"

Anticipating nothing but echoes of the bear's plea to resound between the temple walls, Ross was flabbergasted when an otherworldly voice replied. Seemingly emanating from everywhere and nowhere, discerning its source confounded his senses and left him spinning in circles in his attempts to espy the speaker.

"He chose his side and thus his fate," asserted the invisible presence.

Ross began to wonder if the flora and fauna surrounding the temple were its origin. Though each word was precisely enunciated and overtly feminine, the voice was pervaded with the growling, snarling, hissing, and screeching of animal calls.

"Children who stray too far from my purpose find themselves beyond my care."

Oz dropped to his knees and fixed his gaze upon a particularly stately ginkgo tree just beyond the ring of stone columns. Ross quickly copied him though the object of the bear's focus seemed no more likely the source of the omnipresent voice than any other part of the landscape.

"But, Earth Mother," Oz begged, "Thrykryll risked his life to save ours. Is that not worthy of your compassion?"

"Saved you? Yes. That is true, but not out of any noble or compassionate purpose."

"We know he was taking us to the Earth Father. We don't care."

"Do you care that he never intended to take you to Worphyrgro?"

"What do you mean?" Oz shifted his gaze from the tree to Thrykryll. The dragon looked away as if in shame and made no answer.

The Earth Mother responded for him.

"You have little understanding of the true nature of dragon hearts. He is a selfish beast who wants to have the two of you for himself."

"For what? His dinner?"

Like a symphony trilled by thousands of varied exotic jungle birds, the Earth Mother's laughter blended the mirth of mating songs with the mocking cries of crows and jays.

"No, foolish bear. He wants to enjoy you the way you and Ross were just enjoying each other."

Looking away from the tree, Ross and Oz stared dumbfounded at Thrykryll.

"Is this true?" asked Oz.

The dragon's golden eyes closed briefly. Gray smoke hissed from his nostrils like steam from a tea kettle.

"It is," he admitted. "I can't explain it. I won't bother. There is no point now anyway. I will be dead soon."

Ross had remained silent, afraid to interrupt a conversation with a goddess. Once the dragon's passion towards him was revealed, he risked incurring her wrath.

"Love is love, and should not be judged!" he declared with a force of conviction that he found surprising in himself. Emboldened by his bravery and the lack of immediate retribution from the heavens, he persisted. "If Thrykryll loves us, no matter how petty the reason, it is love nonetheless!"

A new, deeper voice, more masculine, more geologic, like the cracking of glaciers, the rumbling of earthquakes, and the slow passage of time responded as though rising upward from the land . A volcano, frighteningly near, belched columns of smoke coincident with each word.

"The stranger quotes what you have preached for millennia most eloquently, my dear."

"Worphyrgro_!" thundered the Earth Mother, her voice the stampeding apocalypse of vast herds of bison and wildebeest on the move. "_What business have you here?"

"The same as you. I came to watch a tender act of love, and having witnessed this unique romance, I am moved to ask a boon of you."

"After all you have done? What possible service would I grant you other than destruction?"

"I would have you heal the dragon."

"Why?" she asked with snake's hiss suspicion. "This is not like you to care who you kill with your indiscriminate cataclysms."

"These mortals have reminded me what it means to live, to grow, to change, and to love." The sweet melody of a babbling brook and the gentle lapping of waves upon the pebbly shore of a mountain lake flowed and intertwined with his words. "They have reminded me of the love I have for you and you once had for me. I desire to experience that again."

As if hushed by the approach of a jungle predator, a restless quiet ensued. Ross' eyes nervously shifted back and forth between the ancient tree and the smoldering volcano worried that their fight might erupt anew and destroy him and his new friends.

"If I heal this dragon and take you back," asked the tree, "will you cease, or at least minimize your restless reshaping of the land and weather?"

"In your embrace," answered the volcano, "I will be as calm as a sleeping babe. The earth shall know peace."

"Forever?"

"That is impossible to promise and undesirable for both of us anyway. You know as well as I that the land must be scoured and renewed periodically for life to flourish, but I guarantee a long age of tranquility. I will be content to let you rule for a while."

"You have always spoken truth to me, Worphyrgro. I accept your offer. Come to me and give evidence of your affection while these three mortals entertain us."

The ground rumbled and groaned. Trees swayed, and vast flocks of squawking birds took flight from the forest canopy. Pheromones, pollen, and air-born seeds of every variety filled the air with their fecundity.

Eschewing the spectacle, Ross' attention fixed upon the dragon. Despite the Earth Mother's promise, Thrykryll was not healed. If anything, he was slipping away. The iridescent crimson of his beautiful scales was fading to a leprous orange.

"What about, Thrykryll?" he shouted. His shrill voice silenced the energetic cacophony and stilled the trembling of the Earth. "You have done nothing for him."

It was a bold, and assertive statement for the little fox. Anticipating the Earth Mother's displeasure at his impudence, Ross braced himself to receive the violence of her ire. Instead, a rumbling purr like the soothing lullaby of a mother cat towards her kittens engulfed him like a welcome cuddle.

"I gave that power to you, little fox."

"What? How?"

"Save him by loving him. There is great love for the dragon within you. Now, show him how much."

Ross sputtered in confusion, but Oz wrapped his comforting arms around the frustrated vulpine.

"Calm yourself, friend Ross."

"But I don't know what to do."

"Relax. Be at peace. All will be well."

Oz's voice, the gentle pressure of his paws, and the intoxicating chemical brew suffusing the air ameliorated Ross' anxiety. Warm hunger for the pleasures of fur and flesh replaced it, stimulated by a cocktail of hormones raging within in him like a madness.

When the bear's paws cupped his balls and gripped his sheath, he responded instantly, growing an erection twice it's normal size. Wrapped in a faint ruby glow, it shone like the horizon at dawn.

"I guess we know where she put the magic," quipped Oz as he gripped Ross' heavy staff and stroked it.

A throbbing power beyond any earthly experience suffused the fox's loins. The caress of Oz's strong paws magnified his heat. Sexual desire threatened to obscure all reason, but a sliver of his consciousness fretted for his scaly companion, tethering him to rationality.

Struggling to extract himself from the bear's delightful embrace, Ross resisted the carnal delights Oz offered and knelt at the inert and unresponsive dragon's side. He pressed his furry body against the bulk of Thrykryll's scaly chest. With one ear against the downy scales, he listened for the dragon's heartbeat. It was weak, but thankfully steady.

Registering the mammal's light contact, Thrykryll, seemingly unconscious, opened both eyes.

"What are you doing?" he rumbled, vibrating Ross' small body.

"I don't know...that's the problem. I want to save you, but I don't know how."

"Yes, you do, friend Ross," said Oz, placing a paw upon his slender shoulder.

"Where do I start? How..."

"Do what comes naturally, whatever feels right to you. Thrykryll and I will find love in whatever you do."

"You mean you...me...and Thrykryll...together? A threesome?"

Oz nodded.

"But he's so big, and I'm so small."

"Though it pains me to say this," groaned the dragon as if the idea of taking sides with Oz induced physical distress, "you should listen to the loudmouth bear." Contritely, he added, "I should listen, too. He has more experience."

"That's a very generous admission for you, dragon," offered Oz.

"Is it?"

Thrykryll was puzzled by his own behavior and feelings. His perception of emotions, especially in others, had always been limited and clouded by suspicion and greed. Iron certainty to protect and please himself was yielding to a growing concern for the mutual happiness of the bear and the fox. His newly found empathy expanded his perception beyond his own tough hide and covetous heart. A cool, mellow acceptance of new possibilities loosened his normally reticent dragon tongue.

"I have never known love before. If what I am experiencing now is a part of it, then I wish to know it better before the end."

"There will be no end," declared Ross. "At least not today. I have been given the power," he added grasping the glowing, horse-sized appendage hanging between his legs and stroking it to full tumescence. "I will heal you with love."

Ross put forth his most convincing manner to encourage his friends, but couldn't fool himself. He was ignorant of dragon anatomy, and was clueless as to where to begin. The region between Thrykryll's hind legs seemed the best place to start, so he examined the terrain closely. Near the termination of the ventral scales there was a prominent, leathery bulge similar to his furry mammalian penis sheath. It looked promising, as did the longitudinal cloacal slit posterior from the bulge.

Having decided that the Earth Mother enlarged his penis for a reason, Ross directed his efforts towards discovering how he might enter the dragon. Placing his paw upon the slit, he began by stroking it gently, finding it warm to the touch, and smooth, like the skin of his own anus. Thrykryll shuddered slightly from the fox's delicate fingering, and the dragon's rumbling purr returned. Louder and louder it grew, each breath stronger and less labored than the one before.

Encouraged by the dragon's apparent improvement, Ross straddled Thrykryll's tail facing to the front, laying the tip of his enlarged member upon the forward opening. Only the slightest pressure was needed to part the moistened folds of flesh allowing the fox to ease his magic wand inside. As if extruded by the force of the fox's entry, Thrykryll's pair of saurian penises grew until the reptilian pair were fully engorged and only Ross' grapefruit sized bulge remained exposed.

The drake lay, like a huge house cat, exposing his belly to the sun. Carnal stimulation was a novel experience much more intense than the pleasure he enjoyed from the mammal's mid-flight grooming. Joyful puffs of gray and white smoke infused with dancing orange sparks poured forth from Thrykryll's open mouth, curling and interlacing in the still air.

At the dragon's other end, his internal heat enveloped Ross' cock making the fox sweat and pant beyond the exertion caused by his steady thrusts. Consumed by the intense sensation of fiery flesh, Ross forgot Oz until the bear joined him atop the dragon.

Positioning himself forward of Ross, Oz guided Thrykryll's smaller, aft-penis against his tailhole and gradually impaled himself until the gleaming red spear vanished completely between his buttocks. The longer of the dragon's pair rose in front of him providing a smooth surface upon which his own turgid member rubbed.

Ross snuggled against Oz's broad, furry backside, the tip of his snout barely clearing the bear's shoulder. Unable to see much besides the very tip of Thrykryll's long staff, he stretched his arms around the bruin's waist and relied on touch to find and grip the object he sought.

"Ahhh," moaned Oz when the fox located his hidden target and began stroking. Oz in turn serviced Thrykryll. Together, they moved in concert upon and within their enemy turned friend.

Experiencing sexual bliss for the first time invoked within Thrykryll a host of new emotions. His out-sized purr returned as loud and uncontrolled as a runaway locomotive. The foundations of the temple shook, threatening to collapse its surviving columns, but no such disaster occurred. Rather, an extraordinary rebuilding began with fragments of broken marble rejoining with their brothers to form whole columns that righted themselves beneath the plinths supporting the dome. Cracks healed and shattered bits of plaster rebuilt decorative frescoes in an upwards falling snowstorm.

The accompanying change in Thrykryll was no less astounding. Broken bones knitted together and reconnected to muscle tissue. Spreading across his body like the restorative brush strokes of an artist retouching an aged masterwork, blemishes and bruises faded, and gashes filled in with new flesh blending seamlessly with surrounding scales until he was shiny and hale.

Invigorated with a joyful vitality so antipode to the looming death that minutes before had seemed so inevitable, Thrykryll reached out to stroke and fondle his industrious and enraptured mates. Though massive and capable of wreaking great damage, Thrykryll's powerful legs, feet, and claws were not the blunt and clumsy appendages they appeared. Cradling the little fox with his hind talons, the dagger-length nails scritched delicately beneath his ears, stroked his back, and combed his bushy tail. Oz received similar treatment from the dragon's front claws, and the two mammals mured their united delight.

Time and space distorted to a degree wherein each moment existed as its own eternity cradled within the Earth Mother's loving bosom. The surrounding terrain became a blurred abstraction as their intertwined melange of flesh, fur, and scales became the only components of their cognitive universe.

Did the sun and moon complete numerous transits of the sky, or did they but hallucinate? The answers were both unknowable and unimportant. A singularity of awareness joined their spirits as one kindled within a blazing pyre of smoldering dragon lust and mammalian heat until the shuddering sensation of simultaneous ejaculation brought about an inferno quenching finale.

In love's languid aftermath, Ross lay within the comfort of the dragon's coiled tail, spooned by Oz's fuzzy bulk. The fox's breathing was heavy. His mates slept. Ross' body was unresponsive as if his spirit and mental essence had detached themselves from worldly physical connections. Filled with an abundance of love and gratitude, he desire to awaken his lovers and express his joy to them, but no words seemed adequate, and his mouth was no more responsive to his commands than any other part of his body. Only his eyes moved allowing him to gaze beyond the temple to observe that the land had recovered it's vitality.

Greenery covered all of the ground. Convulsions and eruptions had ceased. Even the volcano that embodied the Earth Father had quieted, diminished, and was draped in robes of verdant forest; smoke and lava no longer spewing from his summit to consume and burn all in its path. The Earth Mother tree, in contrast, had grown larger and moved to a position at the base of the Father-volcano.

Both tree and mountain blurred as Ross' vision faded, signaling his entrance to the familiar, queer reality of dream sleep. Devoid of purpose, the resultant illusion was neither disquieting nor euphoric. A neutral ambivalence suffused his spirit accompanied by an expectation that someone would eventually join him in his subconscious state. Time unknown passed allowing Ross a calm perusal of his surroundings.

He sat upon a flat, blocky exposure of bedrock at the top of a grass and wildflower covered hillock. From his vantage above a vast, lightly forested plain, he traced the course of a wide, sluggish river meandering to the pale blue horizon. Other, smaller, bald topped hills protruded above the otherwise flat surround, but none as high as his perch. A cloudless sky warmed his fur with the sun's radiance while simultaneously cooling with a gentle breeze. A more welcome place to waste hours in idle contemplation was beyond his ability to imagine.

Instinctively, he knew that the Earth Mother's fruitful abundance permeated everything around him. Insects buzzed, birds swooped past, deer browsed the boundary between woods and meadow. The more he looked, the more creatures appeared to his senses. Eventually, a hawk soaring in aimless circles caught his attention. He tracked its slow, looping progress until it was directly overhead. A spiraling descent ended with the magnificent bird sharing his outcrop. Cocking its head from side to side, the raptor examined him critically before morphing into a feral gray fox.

Like all dreams, the startling phenomenon made sense in its context. Eyes blending numerous shades of green gazed intently into his holding him spellbound. The magical creature then transitioned again to an anthropomorphic form that was his female equivalent.

"Greetings, Ross Hunter," said the vixen in the unmistakable vitality infused voice of the Earth Mother.

"Greetings to you also, Myrphirisha. Is this your true form?"

Trilling laughter as light and gay as spring birdsong filled the air.

"The essence of life itself is my true form, mortal. It has no visual equivalent other than the abundance in every drop of water, paw full of soil, and breath of air. I appear as you see me for your benefit, to put you at ease."

"At ease about what?"

"Regarding your decision to stay in this reality with Oz and Thrykryll and about your role in the peace between Worphyrgro and me."

"How do you know my concerns?"

"By electing to remain in this world, you have become a component of it. Thus your heart, mind, and soul are open to my inspection."

"Ah. I see."

"I don't think you truly do, but that is no matter. Talk of your doubts to me, and I will allay them if I can."

"Well, I guess I'm unsure why you saved Thrykryll and whether that was some special favor just for me. The Earth Father seemed eager to rekindle his love for you and have the dragon healed, yet you accepted a vague promise from him to calm his tempestuous behavior for an indeterminate period of time. I think you could have demanded more."

"You are a perceptive little fox. My position was indeed strong, but granting Father a feeling of victory served my needs better. He will keep his promise longer thinking that he bested me, when in truth I got what I have secretly been after all along."

"What is that?"

"Your seed."

"I don't understand. There are none of my kind here other than me, or so I have been told, except for you in this dream form, and I am not...inclined towards females anyway. I think I will disappoint you."

Again, her laughter was pleasant and omnipresent as if the whole world delighted in his confusion.

"Perceptive you may be but also ignorant. That is not a criticism, little fox. There is much you do not and could not know about this reality, especially about dragons."

"What don't I know?"

"An impossibly vast amount, but I shall divulge enough to assuage your concerns. You are certain that Thrykryll is a male?"

"He is," insisted Ross with conviction, then with less certainty inquired, "Isn't he?"

"All dragons are hermaphrodites able to change sex as the environment demands. They can control which sex they are during mating, but a young dragon like Thrykryll is inexperienced, and they are as ignorant as you about their reproductive capabilities."

"I am confused how him being a hermaphrodite changes anything. We aren't even the same species or even in the same evolutionary family."

"That is because you still do not understand the breadth of my powers or know my true motive."

"Which is...or are?"

"A new race sired by you and Thrykryll."

"What? You want me to..."

"You already did, little fox. The female part of Thrykryll became active when you healed him, and my powers were there to make your seed compatible with her eggs. You inadvertently fertilized them during your love making."

"Oh." Ross was too stunned to say more.

"Are you upset that I tricked you?"

"No...At least I don't think so. I just never thought I would have children of my own. I guess...I think...I mean...I do like the idea."

"It's a big responsibility. A goddess will be looking over your shoulder to make sure you do it right."

For the first time during his lucid dream, Ross experienced anxiety.

"I don't know anything about raising children. Thrykryll's the mother, he...she...they'll know what to do."

"The dragon knows less than you. They don't even know they are pregnant yet. You will have to explain it to them. I advise you to tell Oz first and recruit his help with taming your mate. Dragons are strong, long lived, competitive, arrogant, selfish, and reclusive to the point of their own detriment. Their lack of social interaction is a mighty liability. Thrykryll will attempt to dominate you and not even understand why their actions are unfair."

"Why did you make dragons like that?"

"You think I am all powerful, but I must obey the rules of this reality the same as every speck of matter and thought within it. True, I designed dragons with certain goals in mind, but underlying uncertainties and random forces make the final outcome of whatever I create a mystery even to me. Does that disturb you to learn a goddess has limits?"

"No. Honestly, it makes me feel better."

"Explain."

"Free will. If you are not omnipotent nor omniscient, then we are free to choose at least some things about our existence. I am cheered that the future is a mystery to both of us."

"And why does that ease your journey through life?"

"It means Thrykryll can change. He...they, I mean..can be less selfish, less mean, and be more loving in time."

The vulpine representation of the Earth Mother scooted her voluptuous posterior closer until their hips touched. She gave the side of Ross' snout a gentle lick.

"You are a wonderful mortal, and I find pleasure in your company, Ross Hunter, but I must leave now. As a parting gift, I let you keep your magical penis. With it, may you spawn many offspring."

Her transformation back to raptor form and subsequent launch into the sky ended the dream, returning Ross to the reality of his snug position against the mother of his unborn children and the partner of his dreams. Ross placed a paw on Thrykryll's belly as if he could possibly detect the fertilized eggs within. It was a silly gesture that he soon abandoned in lieu of gazing up at the clear blue sky.

A familiar looking silhouette circled between him and the sun. Ross waved.

"Thank you for everything, Earth Mother," he whispered.

The bird screeched in response before banking sharply, speeding towards the sunset.

[End of Story]